The First Kill
by HeroesLover77
Summary: The team's first sabotage mission does not go as planned, and Newkirk is left unable to forgive himself.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the show or characters or anything. I don't profit from this either, so please don't sue.

Warning: Darkish themes in upcoming chapters.

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><p>(Set between pilot and S1Ep2)<p>

CHAPTER ONE -

Carter was back. And he was here to stay this time. Caught no less than one day after the Colonel had sent him out in the dog truck, and promptly returned to Stalag 13.

Newkirk couldn't help but wonder if Colonel Hogan had made the right decision, adding Carter to the team. Carter had already made a mess of things once. In all fairness, he couldn't have known that the guy was a German spy (especially since Newkirk had neglected to tell him). But he had let the spy in on their operation. So Colonel Hogan dealt with things in his usual brilliant manner, and that was the end of it.

But Newkirk still harboured a bit of resentment towards the American Sergeant for ruining the plan and complicating things. Not to mention the fact that it had made Newkirk look bad for not having told him about the spy in the first place.

"Newkirk? Newkirk!"

Newkirk snapped out of his deep thought, and his attention returned to the meeting that was taking place down in the tunnel. LeBeau, Carter, Kinch and Colonel Hogan were all looking at him expectantly.

"Sorry, sir. What was that?"

"I need you to focus, okay?" Hogan said, not unkindly. "I know we're all a bit nervous, but it's going to be great, as long as we stick to the plan. Do you have the detonator?"

"Yes sir, it's right here." He lifted the corner of his black coat to show the device strapped to his waist.

"I still can't believe we're going to blow up a train!" Newkirk grinned. The idea was exhilarating. Up until this point, the team had been strictly 'Traveller's Aid'. Now they were tackling sabotage in their free time.

"Well, we haven't had a demolitions expert in our midst until now." The Colonel flashed a smile at their most recent addition.

Newkirk looked over at Carter. There were a few other qualified men in camp, and Newkirk couldn't figure out why Colonel Hogan wanted this one on the team. He was skinny, clumsy and at times a bit dopey, for lack of a better word. Had he not known better, Newkirk never would have pegged him as a demolitions expert. Not in a million years.

"Well, shucks, Colonel. I don't know if I'd call myself an expert..." Carter said smiling and casting his eyes downward modestly.

"Wouldn't call yourself a..! Look, you had better know what you're doing, Carter." Newkirk exclaimed. "We're putting our necks on the line for this mission!"

"Easy, Newkirk. No need to panic. Carter here has all the qualifications." Hogan interrupted. He glanced at his watch. "Alright, we should get a move on. We have forty minutes to reach the tracks and get everything in place."

Olsen appeared above at the entrance to the tunnel.

"Lights just went out in Klink's quarters, sir." He informed them.

"Thanks, Olsen. Klink should be going to bed now, which hopefully means he won't be stopping in for any surprise visits for the rest of the night." Hogan said.

"And what if he wakes up later on and decides to drop by?" LeBeau asked.

"What, and ruin his beauty sleep?" Kinch asked. Everybody smirked.

"Klink isn't so diligent." Hogan replied. "Besides, this job shouldn't take too long, assuming we don't hit any snags along the way. Any questions? Good. Let's head out."

The group made their way out through the emergency tunnel, and started through the forest, in the direction of the railway.

It was cold and dark, and the group was a bit on edge. Apart from meeting incoming prisoners, and going into town a few times for supplies and whatnot, none of them had had much experience in the forest. To add on to that, being caught with sabotage supplies would probably mean being shot without trial.

After what seemed like an eternity, the group finally reached their destination.

"Ten minutes." Hogan said, referring to when the train was due. "Let's get to work."

For the next bit, everyone busied themselves with setting up the explosives.

"Here comes the train!" Newkirk yelled.

"Perfect! We're all done here Colonel!" Carter shouted, the roar of the train engine increasing as it approached.

"Great. Let's go!" Hogan ordered. The airmen scrambled off the tracks.

"Can we watch the explosion?" Carter asked.

"We'll be able to see it for miles around, but we should start heading back to camp now. When people come to investigate the explosion, I'd like for us all to be as far away as possible."

With that, the team packed their bags and started to make their way back to Stalag 13.

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><p>AN: Next chapter will be up shortly. Reviews are much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO –

After a couple minutes, the train ran over the detonator, and the entire thing went up in flames.

The prisoners stopped and watched the carnage unfold from a good distance, and congratulated one another on a job well done.

"C'est magnifique, Carter!" LeBeau said, patting the American on the back.

"You really know your stuff!" Kinch agreed.

"Thanks, fellas." Carter said, blushing a little.

"Alright, we can celebrate back at camp." Hogan urged. He understood more than anyone that being caught in such close proximity to a disaster like this one, while wearing camouflage, would almost certainly mean a death sentence.

They continued on their way.

"Are we almost back?" Newkirk asked.

"Just about. Only another mile or so –" Hogan was cut off by a sound behind them.

"Halt!"

The group froze, and slowly turned.

A young German in uniform stood staring at them.

"Wer bist du?*" He asked, obviously trying to appear more brave than he felt. He was grossly out numbered, and wasn't holding a rifle.

The prisoners looked at one another, unsure of their next move. When no one answered him, the young man reached for his walkie-talkie.

"Don't." Hogan warned. Newkirk, who was standing closest to the German, had his gun out, and ready.

The man brought the walkie-talkie up to speak into it, and Hogan moved quickly forward, and grabbed it from him. Hogan held his own gun up to the young man's head.

"We can't let you do that, kid." The American Colonel said.

The events that transpired in the next few moments seemed to occur in slow motion. Hogan turned his head for a moment to talk to Kinch, and the young German took the chance to reach into his coat for his weapon.

He quickly brought his arm forward, intent on shooting the Colonel, but Newkirk took action first. His shot echoed through the trees, and Colonel Hogan jumped back, startled.

Newkirk lowered his gun, and breathing heavily. The German clutched his chest, and then fell to his knees. Blood began to fall into the snow, and the man then fell forward, dead.

There was a painful silence for what seemed to him like an eternity. Newkirk had never killed a man before, at least not up close. He'd never watched his victim crumble to the ground, the life leaving his eyes. Sure he'd dropped bombs from his plane, but that was much, much different.

" I - I didn't mean it." He began stammering. "I mean, he - he was going to...I couldn't let him..."

Hogan stepped up and gently relieved Newkirk of his firearm, which he then passed over to Kinch.

"You saved my life, Newkirk. This man was going to either going to shoot me, or expose our whole operation. You did what you had to. Understand?" Hogan asked calmly yet firmly.

Newkirk nodded, shaking.

"Might as well get his gun, too. No sense in leaving it here, we could always use spares." Hogan said, nodding at LeBeau.

The Frenchman bent down, and felt around the man's waist for a holster. He stopped and saw something in the snow next to the body. His heart dropped as he realised what it was.

"What's wrong?" Hogan asked.

"He doesn't have a gun on him." LeBeau replied quietly after a moment.

"What? What was he reaching for then!" Hogan asked.

LeBeau picked the item up and brushed off the snow. He handed it to the Colonel.

"He was reaching for that." He said, solemnly.

Hogan looked down at the knife he had been handed. By the light of the moon, we was able to see what it was. The symbol on the handle, and the carved words _Blut und Ehre!** _on the blade told Hogan what he had already suspected.

The man's voice had been higher, and his face softer than most German soldiers. And if the knife weren't proof enough, LeBeau then proceeded to hand the Colonel the German's identification. A Hitler Youth membership book, stating his age to be 15.

Hogan looked up at Newkirk, who's face had gone sheet white with realisation.

Not only had he just killed someone… he had just killed a kid.

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><p>* - Who is there?<p>

** - Blood and Honour!

A/N - Thanks for reviewing! :)


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE –

"No." Newkirk whispered. He stepped forward and, before Hogan could protest, grabbed the membership book from his hands.

"He was fifteen. I shot a fifteen year old?" He said. He began repeating those words over and over in his mind. _Shot a fifteen year old._

"Newkirk, it's not your fault, you didn't know!" His friends began, but their words were lost on him.

Newkirk looked down at the membership book. It had been in the youth's breast pocket, and was blood stained. Newkirk dropped the book in the snow. He began to feel dizzy, and all of a sudden turned and became violently ill into the bushes.

"Okay, let's get you back." Hogan said quietly. He took hold of Newkirk arm.

"What about the body, sir." Kinch said, casting a remorseful look over his shoulder.

Hogan glanced back. He was beginning to feel a bit sick himself.

"Carter, you and Kinch move the body. Put it where someone will find it easily, but go back that way. Not too close to the camp. God knows he deserves a proper burial, but we can't risk his death being traced back to us."

"Right Colonel." Kinch said.

"And be quick about it. Hopefully the Krauts will be too busy putting out the fires to be scouting this area of the woods, but you can never be too careful."

Kinch and Carter got to work moving the teen's body, and LeBeau, Hogan and Newkirk went quickly back to camp.

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><p>Once they were safely inside Barracks 2, Hogan sat Newkirk down at the table, instructing LeBeau to put on some coffee.<p>

"How are you feeling, Newkirk? Alright now?" Hogan asked, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I'm okay." Newkirk lied. "It's just…that's the first time I've ever…well, you know."

"I know." Hogan replied. "The first time is tough. But this is war, and unfortunately, most people don't get through it without taking a few lives. It's kill or be killed."

LeBeau walked over with two cups of coffee. Newkirk took his, but found that his hands wouldn't stop shaking and put it down.

"I know, Colonel. I just wasn't expecting it to be like that. I think I just need to get some rest." Newkirk said.

"Okay. Well, if you wanna talk about it or…"

"I'm alright." Newkirk said quickly. "I think I'll pack it in now." He stood up. "G'night Colonel. Night, LeBeau." With that he hopped up onto his bunk and lay facing the wall.

LeBeau and Hogan looked at each other.

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><p>By the time Carter and Kinch got back, the barracks were dark. So they knocked gently on Colonel Hogan's door. He opened it a moment later.<p>

"The body's been taken care of, sir." Kinch informed his CO, as the pair stepped into the Colonel's quarters. Hogan nodded, and noticed that Carter was looking over at Newkirk.

"He's had a hard night." Hogan commented.

"How's he doing?" Kinch asked.

"Well, as I suspected, tonight was the first time he's ever killed anyone. And having to kill a kid makes that all the more difficult, I imagine."

"I bet." Kinch agreed, sympathetically.

"Will he be alright tomorrow, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"I don't know. If he isn't, we'll just have to help him accept what's happened."

"At least he's able to sleep. That should make him feel better." Kinch said.

"Right. In fact, we should all be sleeping right now. Role call's in less than four hours, and we've got to process a few new prisoners tomorrow."

"Sleep sounds pretty good to me right now." Kinch smiled. "Good night, Colonel."

"Good night, sir." Carter said.

"Good night you two." Hogan replied, and with one last look over at Newkirk, he sighed and closed his door for the night.

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><p>AN: Sorry it's such a short chapter, and that it took so long to post! Please review, chapter 4 will be up much sooner :)


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR –

Newkirk slept like a rock that night. However, by the time he awoke the next morning, he felt just as tired as he had when he'd gone to bed.

"Newkirk."

Newkirk sat up and rubbed his eyes. Colonel Hogan was standing next to his bunk.

"Morning, Colonel." Newkirk mumbled, tiredly.

"Morning. Here, use this." He tossed a damp cloth up to the Englander.

"Okay…" Newkirk said, somewhat confused.

"You still have your face paint on from last night. And make sure you get into uniform before Schultz comes to get us for role call."

Newkirk looked down at his clothes. They were black, rather than blue like his RAF uniform. Now that the group was involved in sabotage, and would be out of uniform frequently, they would have to be much more careful. If a German caught one of them dressed that way, he could have them shot as spies.

He began to scrub the towel over his face, trying to get off the black camouflage. Shultz came to round everyone up just as Newkirk finished changing clothes.

Outside, in formation, Klink rambled on as per usual.

"And if it weren't for our perfect no-escape record here at Camp 13, I might have thought one of you prisoners had something to do with last night's explosion!" Klink chuckled at the seemed absurdity of the statement.

Carter and Kinch exchanged a subtle, smug grin. All the prisoners of Barracks 2 got a silent laugh out of it, as they all knew that Hogan and the others had orchestrated and carried out the entire thing.

Newkirk didn't want to think about last night. He stared at the ground, wishing Klink would shut up and let them go.

When they were finally dismissed, Carter and Kinch stopped Newkirk on his way back to the barracks.

"Hey, Newkirk. How are you doing?" Kinch asked.

"I'm fine, mates." Newkirk replied, casually. "…how are you?"

"Well, we're fine, of course. It's you we're all worried about…" Carter exclaimed. Kinch glared at him.

"Why would you…what do you mean, you're all worried about me?" Newkirk asked, shifting his weight. He was a bit uncomfortable with the notion of everyone be worried about him. He had never liked to be the centre of attention.

"Well because last night, when you sho—" Kinch elbowed the younger sergeant in the ribs before he could continue.

"No reason. It was a rough night for everyone, just wanted to make sure you were good." Kinch said smoothly.

"And I've told you already, I'm 'good'." Newkirk confirmed. "Never better. Excuse me." He pushed his way between the two sergeants and headed inside.

Carter glanced at Kinch.

"Do you really think he's alright?" He asked.

"I don't know. Newkirk isn't one to share what he's feeling." Kinch explained. "Sure, he'll run off his mouth when he has an opinion, but when something is really bothering him, he doesn't like to talk about it."

They followed their comrade back to the barracks, where LeBeau was cooking breakfast.

"There you go, mes amis." LeBeau said, as they took their places around the table. He put a plate of food in front of each of his friends.

"This looks great, LeBeau. You've outdone yourself again." Hogan complimented, as he and the other began to eat.

Newkirk looked down at his food, and he felt his stomach twist into a knot. He felt nauseated, and not the least bit hungry anymore.

"Thanks, LeBeau, but I think I'm gonna pass this morning."

"Oh, what's wrong with my cooking this time, hmm?" LeBeau asked, looking offended.

"Nothing. Honest." Newkirk insisted. "I'm just not hungry, that's all."

"Are you sick?" Hogan asked.

"No."

"Alright. If you aren't going to eat, you can get started on the new clothes for the flyers who are coming in this morning. We got word earlier that there are 8 escapees coming in from Stalag 11, instead of the 6 we were expecting."

"And we've only got 6 suits ready." Newkirk said.

"And 6 sets of papers." Kinch added.

"Exactly. Now we need to work quickly if we want to get all 8 of these men out on time tonight."

"I'll go get started, sir." Newkirk said.

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><p>Down in the tunnel, as he worked on the suits, Newkirk got to thinking. Had anyone found the boy's body yet? Had the parents been informed?<p>

_Maybe it's a good thing I killed him now, _Newkirk thought. _Otherwise, he'd have grown up to be a Nazi in a few years. And certainly would've killed some Allies._

But then again, what if he had grown up to be a member of the Underground? Newkirk would have killed someone who could've helped end the war.

Who even knew if the war would last that long? Newkirk hoped it wouldn't. He, now, more than ever before, wanted the whole ruddy thing to be over with.

"What have you gotten done so far?"

Newkirk looked up, startled by the sound of Colonel Hogan's voice at the end of the tunnel.

"Oh." Newkirk said. "Uhmm…" He looked down at the piece of cloth in his hands. He had measured it and started cutting, but at some point, had become lost in thought.

"You've been down here forty-five minutes, and this is all you've got done?" Hogan asked. "I told you we were on a tight schedule here."

"Sorry, Colonel. I got distracted." Newkirk said. Forty-five minutes? It had been that long? "I was thinking…"

"Thinking? I thought we agreed that that was too dangerous an activity for you!" LeBeau teased. He grabbed the cloth from his friend's hand. "Allow me."

"I can do it." Newkirk said, defensively.

"You can help Kinch with the paper work." Hogan told him. "We need you to forge some signatures."

"Right sir." The RAF pilot started to leave.

"And Newkirk," Hogan said, stopping him, "we need everyone to focus here. If there's something else on your mind…"

"I'm ready to work now sir, you don't have to worry about me." Newkirk said, and he joined Kinch at the other end of the main tunnel.

Newkirk mentally kicked himself. He had allowed his feelings to impede in his work. He had allowed his friends to think that something was wrong.

The last thing he wanted to do, was let them know that what had happened was killing him inside.

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><p>AN: Happy Canada Day to any fellow Canadians out there!


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE –

The boys from Stalag 11 came in late that morning. LeBeau fed them lunch, and supplied them each with warm, civilian clothing. Kinch gave them their fake papers, which identified them as Germans, and Colonel Hogan gave them their instructions.

Newkirk stood watching from the side, smoking. He didn't want to get in the way of the smooth operation that the others had going. Sure he had helped Kinch with the fake papers, but now he felt too drained of energy to partake in the rest it.

The flyers were understandably excited to be getting out of Germany, and were constantly chatting amongst themselves. The high-energy atmosphere was draining him, so Newkirk went upstairs.

Carter was up there already, by himself, as everyone else was busy down in the tunnel.

"Hiya, Newkirk." Carter said, smiling.

"Oh. Hi." Newkirk answered. He'd forgot about Carter, and had rather wanted to be alone.

"Do you want to play cards?" Carter asked him.

Newkirk considered it. He could normally take this kid for a lot of money, and it wouldn't be difficult. But, at the moment, he wasn't feeling the sort of thrill he was used to get from the prospect of winning a card game. So he declined.

"Not right now, Carter."

"But we're the only two that the Colonel doesn't need right now. Everyone else has a job to do…"

"The Colonel does need me." Newkirk said, quickly. "I'm on my way to get something for him right now, as a matter of fact. That's why I can't play."

"What are you going to get for him?" Carter asked.

Newkirk ignored him, grabbed his coat and left the barracks. It was freezing out, and Newkirk turned up his collar to keep out the wind. Why hadn't he played the game?

_That's not like me, _he thought.

He started walking around the compound, trying to clear his head.

He didn't want to play the game, because he didn't want to talk to anyone right now, especially Carter. He also knew that his focus was off, and probably wouldn't have played his best game. Even if he played dirty, he might not have won in his current state.

The Englander wandered around, between the barracks, deep in thought.

_Come off it, Peter. _Newkirk ordered himself. _You're acting mad! You heard the Colonel, it's kill or be killed in this war. It's part of your job to kill people. Most of the men in camp have killed before, and they're alright. _That only made Newkirk feel worse. Why was he the only one so bothered by it?

"Newkirk!"

The RAF pilot glanced up to see Schultz come waddling over to him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Schultz was a decent person, and the men had all come to enjoy his company. But Newkirk didn't want any company at the moment.

"What is it, Schultz?" He asked.

"Danke for letting me finish your lunch today, that was just mmm! Delicious!" The German exclaimed.

Newkirk had to smile a little. 'Delicious' isn't the word he'd have chosen to describe the mess hall lunches. But Schultz had his own standards.

"Don't mention it."

"You usually finish all of your food! Prisoners never leave any left-overs, because they get so little food to start with!" He leaned in a bit. "Don't tell the Kommandant that I said that."

"I won't." Newkirk promised.

"Tell me, Newkirk. If you do not eat all of your dinner, will you save the rest for me?" Schultz asked, his eyes shining hopefully.

"Of course, Schultzie. On one condition, mind you..."

"Jah? What condition?" Schultz asked, suspiciously.

"Don't tell any of my mates, or Colonel Hogan, that I'm not eating."

"Why shouldn't I tell them?"

"Well, it's just that I've not been that hungry lately, and I don't want them worrying that I'm sick or something."

"I understand. It's a deal!" Schultz said.

Newkirk watched him jog off happily, and sighed. He had this terrible feeling inside. He hated keeping things from the other prisoners, but this was important. He also had the uncomfortable, lingering feeling in the pit of his stomach, which he had been unable to shake since the incident. The two combined made him feel like he would never eat again.

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><p>At dinner that night, Newkirk insisted, once again, that he was full from the mess hall food, and didn't need the usual supplementary meal that LeBeau provided.<p>

"But you hardly ate anything at dinner!" Carter said. "You gave your food to Schultz."

Newkirk glared at him for a moment, before denying emphatically.

"I ate all of it. I don't know what you thought you saw, mate. Ask Schultz, he'll tell you. I never gave him anything!"

Hogan frowned. Newkirk certainly seemed defensive.

"Well, join us for a toast at least, Newkirk." LeBeau said. He poured some wine for each of the men, then hoisted a glass of his own.

"Well done today, all of you." Hogan said. "We got those men in and out of here like clockwork. They should be halfway home by now, thanks to us. To many more successful assignments."

The men clinked their glasses, and drank up.

"Oh, by the way. Kinch got word from London today. They want us to do another sabotage mission." Hogan added.

Newkirk choked on his wine a little bit, at the mention of this. Luckily no one saw.

"When, mon Colonel?" LeBeau asked, eagerly.

"Soon. They're going to contact us within 48 hours with the details. The passed along their congratulations regarding last night's mission, as well. It looks like sabotage is going to be part of our mandate here from now on!"

The men all seemed pleased about this. They were willing to do anything they could do to help the Allies. Newkirk acted coolly, as if he was just as pleased about this as the next man. But in reality, he hadn't even given any thought to another mission. Especially not one so soon.

He was terrified.

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><p>AN: Thank you for your review, they have been great!


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX –

That night, Newkirk had a terrible sleep. In the few minutes that he actually did get, he had a very disgruntling dream. The Corporal was alone, running through the forest. Someone was chasing after him, but it was too dark to see who it was. Suddenly, Newkirk tripped over something, and fell to the ground. He checked to see what he had tripped over… and it was the boy's body.

Newkirk tore himself out of the disturbing dream, and sat up, in a cold sweat. He glanced around the Barracks. It was morning. The others were just getting up. Kinch looked at him strangely.

"You alright?" He asked.

"'Course." Newkirk replied. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"You just seem a little…panicked."

"Well, I'm not." Newkirk snapped, and he got down from his bunk to get ready for role call.

That day and the next one were on the slower side, and the heroes spent their time trying to ward off boredom by playing cards, annoying Klink and teasing Schultz.

Newkirk had barely eaten a thing, but had finished off the majority of the his cigarettes. He was completely run down. Every night was the same. Restless. He wouldn't fall asleep until 3 or 4 in the morning, only to have the same terribly vivid dream when he finally did, and wake up just in time for role call.

No one had really asked after him, since a few curt remarks on Newkirk's part had put them off of inquiring.

They were all a bit concerned, naturally, but nobody wanted to cross Newkirk when he was in this state. And Newkirk would never usually treat his friends this way, but the lack of food and sleep, as well as the fact that last mission was constantly on his mind made him more than irritable.

So, during the next two days, he stayed clear of the others for the most part.

In the meantime, Hogan had finally heard back from London. He was very busy in the tunnel, working out details, and forming a plan. The assignment was a tricky one, with a lot of details that needed to be worked out. And Hogan was probably the only one who hadn't noticed that something was going on with one of his men.

Then, one night, Hogan called everyone around the table in Barracks 2. It was five days since the last mission, and everyone had been anxiously awaiting the details of their next assignment. The prisoners seated themselves around the Colonel eagerly. Newkirk sat at the end of the table.

"Are we going out tonight, Colonel?" Carter asked. He was obviously ready for some action.

"Not tonight, Carter." Hogan answered, grinning. "This plan has been thought out carefully, and we need to go over a few things. We have to make sure everyone is completely comfortable with their parts before we can attempt this. It's going to involve a bit of acting on our part."

"Acting, sir?" LeBeau repeated.

"That's right." Hogan said. He spread a map out in front of them, and pointed to a coordinate.

"The Krauts have built a sort of laboratory where they are developing and testing new weapons. London wants us to get in and out, with detailed accounts of these new weapons, and how they work."

"How are we supposed to steal a bunch of guns, carry them back to camp and send them to London!" LeBeau asked.

"We don't have to steal the guns. We're going to go in there as a film crew, sent from Berlin, to document their progress to the high command."

"Brilliant!" Kinch commented.

"But they aren't going to let you just go in there and film. Even the Krauts aren't that stupid." Newkirk said, surprising everyone somewhat by speaking up.

"You're right, Newkirk. Carter, LeBeau and I will go in there. You and Kinch will be here." Hogan produced a second map, this one being a layout of the entire laboratory. He pointed behind the building.

"Kinch is going to tap into the phone wires. That way, if the Germans try to verify the orders, he can intercept and pretend to be a General. You two will also be our get away, and cover fire, in case anything goes wrong."

"Okay." Newkirk said. His job didn't sound too difficult. He was still a bit apprehensive, though.

"Colonel, I can't speak German. And my accent isn't the greatest." Carter said.

"That's why we aren't going out tonight. We can have some time to work on your accents. I'll be doing most of the talking, anyway, so you guys don't have to worry." Hogan replied.

_Not worry, _Newkirk repeated in his mind. Even though the comment was meant specifically for Carter and LeBeau, Newkirk reminded himself that he was working with Colonel Hogan. The most ingenious, not to mention trust worthy officer he had ever met. At this comforting fact, he breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time in days, he felt like maybe he would be able to sleep that night.

* * *

><p>He was wrong. That night, his erratic periods of sleep were plagued by dark nightmares, as usual.<p>

The morning of the mission, the entire camp seemed to be buzzing. Everyone was excited, even those who played no role in that night's events.

During the day, Hogan continually went over the plans. LeBeau and Carter kept speaking in broken German, and Schultz (without knowing what they were up to) helped them with some words, as well as with their accents.

As soon as supper was done, the gang rushed from the mess hall back to Barracks 2. It was time to get ready.

Klink had cancelled evening roll call that night, on account of the brutally cold weather. This gave the team more time to prepare.

Newkirk was helping put the final touches on the Colonel's uniform. The two men were alone in the his quarters.

A lot was riding on the authenticity of this uniform he was working on. He wondered if it was be convincing enough.

"Newkirk, you've been pretty quiet lately." Hogan said, breaking the silence.

"Have I, sir? I didn't mean to be." Newkirk said, absently, as he put the final stitches in his CO's shoulder insignia.

"I also noticed that you didn't eat anything at dinner tonight." He grabbed Newkirk's wrist, stopping him from moving onto the next badge. He looked him in the eye. "You're looking a little pale, too. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Sir, I just wasn't hungry this evening. And these black clothes make anybody look ashen, in contrast." Newkirk insisted. "I'm fine."

"We need everyone at 100 percent this evening. This is an important mission. If you need to stay behind, we can get somebody else…"

"I said I was fine, didn't I!" Newkirk said, growing impatient. If he'd been acting like himself, he wouldn't have spoken that way to an officer.

There was a moment of tense silence, where the two stared at one another. Then Hogan spoke again.

"Are you still…upset…about what happened last week?"

"What happened last week?" Newkirk asked, playing dumb.

"I mean about you having to shoot that Hitler youth." Hogan told him.

"Oh, that? Cor, I'd forgotten about it, sir. It was unfortunate, but you said it yourself—this is war. It's kill or be killed. I haven't given it much thought since that night, to be honest."

If it had been anyone other than Newkirk, Hogan would likely have been able to see through the façade. But Newkirk was such a brilliant liar, due to his previous line of work, that he managed to convince Hogan that he was, in fact over the traumatic event. Hogan was still a bit worried, though, about the fact that Newkirk didn't look very well.

"Okay. I still say you don't look great…"

"Thanks a lot." Newkirk muttered, in mock offence.

"- but I trust you."

The RAF pilot froze up. Those words stung him. Newkirk hated lying to the Colonel like this, but what choice did he have? He needed to save face, and save his mates' confidence in him. Neither man said anything for a moment.

"Permission to get back to work, Colonel." Newkirk said softly.

"Go ahead. And hurry it up. I want time to brief once more before we head out."

Newkirk went back to work, and didn't say another word until it was time to go.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN –

The team was gathered at the foot of the escape ladder at the end of the emergency tunnel.

"This is it." Hogan said, rather dramatically. "We can do it, just stick to the script."

There was a murmur of 'Yes sir's from the men, who had gone from excited to nervous in the last few minutes.

"Okay. LeBeau and Carter out first. The underground has arranged for the car to be waiting for us at the edge of the woods. You know the spot. Get going, we'll be right behind you."

The two men went up the ladder and disappeared into the forest above them. Newkirk bounced up and down on the spot a little, trying to keep his adrenaline and anxiety at bay.

A few minutes later, LeBeau came on the car radio, letting the others know that they'd gotten there without any trouble.

"Our turn." Hogan said. Newkirk went up the ladder first, then Kinch, and finally Hogan.

LeBeau and Carter had brought the car closer to the tunnel entrance. The others hopped in, and they started towards the weapons lab.

On the way there, they looked over their recording equipment, which had been waiting for them in the backseat of the car.

"The underground doesn't disappoint, do they? This is the latest in recording technology." Kinch observed.

"The better quality the footage, the easier it is for our side to copy." Hogan told him. "We're coming up on the lab now. Kinch, Newkirk, I'm going to let you guys out here. I want you to make your way through the forest, around to the back of the lab, just like how we talked about earlier."

They pulled over and the two soldiers jumped out of the car.

"If everything goes well, I'll pick you up at the designated spot within two hours." Hogan said through the rolled down window. "If not, I'm leaving the car outside the compound. You have the spare key. If we are any more than a half an hour overdue, get out of here."

The car drove off, and Kinch and Newkirk watched it go, silently wishing their friends luck, before starting in the direction of the lab.

Newkirk was acutely aware of his surroundings as they walked. It was very dark, the only light being the moon, and they couldn't afford to use the flashlights in their bags because it would alert the Krauts that they were there.

All forests looked the same, especially at night. This one looked a lot like the one in his dreams. A lot like the one they'd gone through to blow up that train.

"Newkirk, keep up." Kinch admonished, stopping up ahead. "We have to make it to the other side of the compound before the Kraut in charge makes that phone call!"

"Sorry, Kinch. It's just, I can hardly see where I'm going!" Newkirk said. He picked up the pace.

They finally made it to the edge of the forest, from where they could look upon the back of the lab. The main building itself was heavily guarded of course. Barbed wire, guards, dogs, the whole bit. But the telephone wires were strung out past the fence and over the road. That's where they needed to be.

"What if they spot us?" Newkirk asked.

"The trees mask the telephone poles pretty well. We're wearing black. We'll blend in." Kinch answered, putting on his pole-climbing equipment. They made their way to one of the poles.

"Be careful, eh, mate?" Newkirk said.

"I'll be fine. Keep a lookout down there, alright?" Kinch said. He mounted the telephone pole and climbed up to the top.

Newkirk was pretty sketched. He kept glancing around. He didn't even notice when Kinch intercepted the phone call and successfully convinced the German from inside that he was a General.

"That takes care of that!" Kinch said, as he jumped to the ground from near the bottom of the pole. "Did you see how I handled that guy? Like putty in my hands, Newkirk. Maybe I should've been an officer!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's get out of here."

"Take it easy will you, Peter?" Kinch said. "Colonel Hogan and the others still have to get recordings of all those weapons. They won't be out of there for probably an hour, and we need to wait near the entrance of the compound so we can help them out if something goes wrong. You know our orders as well as I do."

"I know, I know. I just…" He held his head. Suddenly he felt dizzy.

"Newkirk! What's wrong?" Kinch asked. "Here, sit down. You don't look too good." He helped his friend over to a log, a bit deeper into the woods, and sat him down.

"Thanks, Kinch." Newkirk said. "I'm fine, though. Really."

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something moving.

"What was that?" He whispered. Kinch looked over his shoulder, in the direction that Newkirk was looking.

"I don't see anything." Kinch replied.

"Let's get out of here. Colonel Hogan said to wait near the entrance, we should be there by now, in case something goes wrong." Newkirk said, wobbling a little as he stood up.

"Wow, are you sure you're alright to go yet? You seem a little unsteady."

"Of course. We should really go. It's not safe here."

"What do you mean, it's not safe here?" Kinch asked. But Newkirk had already begun trekking through the trees, moving much more quickly than he had been before.

"Newkirk, slow down!" Kinch said, jogging up beside him. Newkirk turned around and glanced anxiously at the patch of trees behind them.

"Kinch, there's somebody there! We've got to go!" He cried. He began running.

"What?" Kinch looked back. He couldn't see anybody. But he couldn't let Newkirk go on his own, so Kinch started to run after his friend anyway.

Newkirk's heart was pounding, and his head was swimming. He couldn't see where he was going, because his eyesight was blurry and it was so dark. But he didn't dare stop running. He was gaining on him, whoever he was!

He ignored the branches that whipped his face and arms as he flew through the trees. He had to keep moving. He looked back. His pursuer was close. So close, in fact, that he must've already gotten Kinch.

He couldn't let him get away with that. He drew out his pistol and began firing madly into the dark brush behind him.

Suddenly, Newkirk tripped, and fell down a steep hill. He landed on something hard. When he opened his eyes, the figure was standing at the top of the hill, looking down at him. He shifted his gaze to see what he had landed on. And in the darkness, he was able to make out the shape of the body of the Hitler youth he had killed.

Suddenly, the air drew out of his lungs, and the trees seemed to close in on him, and he passed out.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT –

Kinch had hit the forest floor the moment he heard Newkirk firing rounds in his direction. He lay flat until the shooting stopped, and then got back up. Something was definitely wrong with Newkirk, there was no question.

He finally caught up with his confused partner when Newkirk had tripped coming down the side of an embankment. Now, Newkirk was lying on top of a broken piece of wood. He was unconscious.

"Newkirk!" Kinch cried. He ran down the side of the embankment and knelt next to the RAF pilot.

"Wake up, buddy. Come on." Kinch begged. He knew he shouldn't move Newkirk, in case there was a neck injury. However, the Germans had no doubt heard Newkirk shooting, and would probably come out into the woods to investigate. He had to move him.

He tapped the Englander's cheek lightly, with no response. Then, he got out his flask, and emptied its contents onto Newkirk's face.

Newkirk stirred a bit, and finally opened his eyes.

"Kinch?"

"It's me." The American said, relieved. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so." Newkirk said. He sat up slowly, and looked around.

"I thought you'd been shot." Newkirk said after a moment.

"Almost, you missed by a couple inches. You're usually a much better shot than that, Newkirk. You need to work on your aim." Kinch teased, grinning.

Despite Kinch's light heartedness, Newkirk was horrified.

"Kinch, I'm so sorry! Cor, I thought that the Germans –"

"Newkirk, there weren't any Germans back there. You were hallucinating." Kinch told him.

Newkirk looked down at the body he had landed on top of. It wasn't a body at all. It was just a few pieces of broken wood. Nobody had been chasing them. Nobody except for Kinch, that is.

Just then, the two men heard barking in the distance.

"The Krauts must've heard you taking shots at me." Kinch said. "We've gotta get back to the rendezvous point, and hopefully Colonel Hogan will be waiting for us."

He got up and gave a hand helping Newkirk to his feet. Newkirk took a second to balance himself. He must've hit his head on the log when he fell. There was a gash on his forehead.

"Luckily, you actually brought us pretty close to the rendezvous. Just about another five minutes that way. Are you alright to move out?" Kinch asked.

"To be honest, no." Newkirk admitted. "But what choice do I have? Let's go."

* * *

><p>They arrived at the rendezvous point a few minutes later. Much to their dismay, Hogan wasn't there with the car yet.<p>

"Why don't you sit down while we wait, Newkirk." Kinch suggested. "No offence, but you look terrible." Newkirk sat in the grass beside the road, and put his head in his hands. He felt terrible about putting Kinch in danger like that.

Then, Kinch tore a strip from his shirt, and handed it to his friend.

"Put some pressure on that cut of yours." He instructed. Newkirk did as he was told.

After a moment of silence, Kinch asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly." Newkirk answered. "But I guess I owe you some sort of explanation."

"You don't owe me anything." Kinch told him. "But you know you'll have to explain what just happened to the Colonel, don't you?"

Newkirk nodded. That was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

Finally, headlights appeared down the road. Kinch and Newkirk regressed into the trees a little, in case it wasn't their guys. But it was.

"Colonel! How did it go?" Kinch asked, as they stepped out of their concealment.

"Great, Kinch." Hogan said. "We got everything we needed! No one suspected a thing."

The men got in the car, and Newkirk sat next to the Colonel, who eyed the cut on his head.

"I see you guys didn't fare so well. What happened?"

Kinch and Newkirk exchanged a look.

"Tell you back at camp, sir." Newkirk said. Then he rested his head against the window in the back seat, and closed his eyes.

Hogan looked at Kinch expectantly, but the Sergeant shook his head.

"I'd better let him tell you about it, Colonel." He said.

Hogan glanced at the man next to him once more. Newkirk looked terrible. He was pale, and the cut on his head was still bleeding a little. Hogan took the bloodstained cloth from the Corporal's hand, and held it against his head for him.

"Hey, LeBeau. Get us back to camp on the double. Newkirk needs to see a doctor."

"Right Colonel." LeBeau answered, and the car flew off down the road.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry this chapter is so short : p


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE –

A sense of urgency set in when the heroes arrived back at Stalag 13, and couldn't wake Newkirk up.

"Carter, run ahead and wake up Wilson. Meet us in Barracks 2." Hogan ordered.

Once they got him from the backseat of the car, Hogan and Kinch carried Newkirk down the tunnel, and brought him up to Hogan's quarters. Carter and Wilson were up there waiting by the time they arrived.

"What happened?" Wilson asked, checking Newkirk vital signs. Everyone looked to Kinch.

"To be honest, I still don't really know. He was really on edge all evening. I think he started hallucinating. He started freaking out, and seeing things. Then he ran, and I chased him, but he started shooting at me."

That raised a few eyebrows.

"That accounts for the gun fire we heard during the mission." LeBeau said. Hogan nodded.

"We're lucky we got out when we did. Go on, Kinch." Hogan said.

"Then, I guess he tripped and fell about a metre off this sort of ledge in the woods. He landed on a broken log. That's how he got that cut on his head. Anyway, he passed out. He seemed to be okay when he woke up a few minutes later, though. Then we walked to the rendezvous site."

"Hallucinating?" Wilson repeated. "What could've caused that?"

Just then, Schultz barged into Hogan's quarters.

"WHAT IS GOING ON!" Schultz shouted. "Lights out was three hours ago!" He stopped in his tracks when he saw the state of Newkirk, who was lying on Hogan's lower bunk.

"What happened?" He asked softly, his expression full of concern for the young man he had grown to care about.

"We're not sure, Schultz." Hogan said. "Newkirk has become very ill all of a sudden, and we're trying to figure out what's caused it."

"This is why I always say to NEVER skip a meal." Schultz said, to no one in particular. But Hogan heard him.

"What do you mean by that Schultz?" He asked.

"Well, I was not supposed to say anything. But since Newkirk is so sick, it might help you to know. The Englander was not eating anything at mealtime. He was giving me almost all of his food, for every single meal. He asked nothing in return, except…that I didn't tell you." Schultz looked a little bit guilty for going back on his promise.

"That would account for his hallucinations. Having so little food can make a man see things."

"I don't think he was sleeping, either, Colonel." Carter added.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, he would get up a few times a night, and have a smoke or a drink."

"Carter's right." Kinch agreed. "And he would murmur in his sleep. And sometimes he would say things like 'I'm sorry', or 'I didn't mean it'."

"How long has this been going on?" Wilson asked.

"I'm willing to bet it's been going on for exactly six nights." Hogan said. It dawned on him, that Newkirk wasn't sick. But he was traumatized even more than he had believed.

"What happened six days ago?" Schultz asked.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you Schultz." Hogan said. He got up out of his chair and directed Schultz towards the door. "But listen. Newkirk probably won't be in any condition to answer role call tomorrow. Let Klink know he's sick."

"Jawhol, Colonel." Schultz said. "Oh and Colonel Hogan? Please, do me a favour."

"Anything, Schultz." Hogan said.

"Please. When you show up for role call tomorrow, do NOT wear those uniforms! Please, Colonel Hogan!"

"Good night Schultz." Hogan said, as he opened the door and gently shoved Schultz out. He smirked, despite the current situation. Schultz was always good for a laugh. But Schultz had also once again been extremely helpful.

"I've finished looking him over, sir." Wilson said, as Hogan sat back down next to the bunk.

"And?"

"Lack of food and sleep is my diagnosis. He's exhausted. He needs rest and nutrition, which means no more missions for a while. His head wound is superficial, I've just put a bandage on it."

"Thank you, Wilson." Hogan said.

"Sir, I think I should talk to you alone." The medic said. Hogan nodded, and dismissed the rest of the men. They left, however reluctantly.

"Will he be alright, Wilson?" Hogan asked.

"Yes. Assuming whatever traumatic event that sent him down this spiral is addressed."

Hogan looked up, a bit surprised. No one had told the medic that something could be troubling the RAF corporal. Wilson looked at his CO knowingly.

"I'm no psychologist, Colonel. But I have seen this before. He's not physically ill, but something is bothering him emotionally. Do you mind telling me what happened to him?"

Hogan sighed. It wasn't like Newkirk was the only one who felt bad about the whole incident. Hogan had never killed a kid before, and though he hadn't been the one to pull the trigger, one of his men had had to in order to save his life. So he was indirectly responsible.

"Newkirk was forced to take the life of a Hitler youth last week. It was his first kill, and the fact that it was kid really tore him up inside." Hogan glanced across the room at the still unconscious figure laying on his bed.

"That counts as traumatic." Wilson said. "Air force guys aren't usually used to doing things like that."

"I know. And to make matters worse, he refuses to talk about it. He fronts like he doesn't feel anything, but he obviously feels a lot more than he lets us know."

"I recommend that he talks to you, or me, or the Chaplin. If he still refuses, maybe his friends can get him to open up about it. One thing is clear. If he goes through this alone, it's going to take a lot longer to recover. And it's going to be a lot tougher."

"Okay. It won't be easy, but we'll get through it." Hogan said. He suddenly felt exhausted himself.

"You look pretty tired yourself, Colonel. Maybe you should take a few days off as well." Wilson suggested.

"Ha. Wouldn't I love that? But tonight at the weapons lab, we overheard that a bunch of those new weapons are being shipped out the day after tomorrow. Me and a few of the boys are going to go back there tomorrow night and toss a few hand grenades. Or something. I haven't had time to work out the details."

"Okay. As long as you understand that Newkirk can't go with you."

"I understand that. Thanks for your help, Wilson."

"I'll come check on him again in the morning. Good night sir." Wilson said.

"Good night." Hogan replied. The medic then left. Newkirk was still passed out. Hogan turned off his lights, then hopped up onto his bunk. He closed his eyes. Now it was his turn to have an uneasy night.

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for all the reviews :)


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN –

Newkirk opened his eyes. He automatically felt sick to his stomach, and his head was pounding. Was he hung over? He brought his hand up to feel a bandage covering what felt to be a pretty bad cut.

Next question. Why was he in Colonel Hogan's room? He sat up quickly, a bit too quickly, and got a head rush. That didn't help with the nausea. There was sunlight pouring in through the window. It was obvious he had missed role call. But how late was it? From where he sat on the bed, the clock on Hogan's desk seemed to say 12:30. He knew that couldn't be right.

Just then, Colonel Hogan walked in. He was carrying a tray of food, which he placed on the desk.

"You're awake." Hogan observed.

Newkirk had to keep himself from saying "No, really?" He couldn't help it, he was in a sarcastic mood. In fact, he was annoyed. And he didn't really know why, but that was how he had had been waking up lately. At least he felt rested. He hadn't felt rested in a long time.

"Blimey, what time is it?"

"About 12:30. I brought you some lunch."

"12:30! I missed role call?" Newkirk asked. The clock hadn't been wrong!

"Relax." Hogan told him. "You're in the clear. Schultz told Klink how sick you were, and he gave you permission not to answer role call."

"I'm not sick." Newkirk told him.

Hogan half shrugged.

"You certainly weren't in very good shape when we brought you back from the mission last night." He said.

That triggered some memories. Newkirk remembered running, and getting into the car when Hogan and the others pulled up. And that was pretty much it. Then he remembered Kinch.

"Kinch! Is he alright? I – I was shooting at him. I thought he was a German!" Newkirk explained hastily.

"He's fine." Hogan said calmly. "What I'm interested in is why this whole thing happened in the first place."

"I just told you. I thought he was –"

"A German." Hogan interrupted. "Yes. But Kinch told me that you went a bit crazy last night. Started seeing things, and then just ran off. When he started chasing after you, you started shooting at him." The Colonel crossed his arms. Newkirk didn't say anything.

"Let me rephrase the question. I want to know how you thought it would be a good idea to go out on a mission with severe sleep and food deprivation and in your…your mental state!"

"My 'mental state'?" Newkirk repeated angrily. "Good job with the 'rephrasing' Colonel, that's lovely!"

"Maybe that's not the right word." Hogan said. "All I know is that you've been lying to everyone for the past week, telling us all that you were 'fine'!"

"I am fine!" Newkirk shouted. "How many times do I have to say that?"

"Alright, prove it!" Hogan said. He grabbed the tray of food and thrust it into the Corporal's hands.

"Finish this." He said. "That's an order."

"You can't order me to do something like that." Newkirk scoffed.

"I'm assessing your suitability for active duty, Corporal, I can order you to whatever the hell I want!" He said.

Newkirk looked at the food for a minute, and then put the tray beside him.

"I can't eat. I'm not hungry."

"According to Schultz, you haven't been eating much of anything lately. Did you know that a lack of food and sleep can cause people to have hallucinations, Newkirk?"

"No sir." Newkirk answered, staring at the ground. He knew when he was defeated. Hogan nodded and sat on the chair next to the bunk.

"You haven't been sleeping very well, have you? Since you had to kill that boy?" Hogan asked, toning down his voice.

"No sir." Newkirk repeated miserably.

"I talked to Sgt. Wilson last night. He says that the best thing to do is to talk about it. It happens to lots of people, you know. It happened to me."

Newkirk looked up in surprise. Colonel Hogan had never shown any fear, or emotional weaknesses since he had arrived. The men all admired him for this.

"Really, sir?"

Hogan nodded.

"I haven't killed too many people. But every time I do it, it bothers me. And the first time, that was the worst. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't even hold a gun properly because my hands would shake every time I picked one up."

"What did you do?" Newkirk asked.

"Well, after a couple days, I realised that it would be irresponsible to go into the field feeling the way I did. So I talked to my CO about it. He redirected me to the Chaplin. I talked to him a few times, and with the support of my buddies, I got over it."

"That may have worked for you, Colonel. But I don't think a Chaplin would be able to help me."

"You never know." Hogan replied. Newkirk shrugged.

"Either way, Peter, you're going to have to talk to someone. It doesn't have to be the Chaplin. It could be me, or Wilson, or any of the guys. But no one gets over what you went through by keeping it to themselves."

"But I don't think I need to - " Hogan held up a hand to stop him.

"I'm letting you know right now. If you don't, you will be deemed unfit for active duty, and will be indefinitely removed from the team."

Newkirk widened his eyes. He couldn't let that happen. He'd been there since the beginning. His work with Colonel Hogan and the others was the only thing that kept him going. Without it, he'd go stir crazy.

"Talking about something that's bothering you doesn't make you any less of a soldier." Hogan told him. "You need to understand that."

Again, Newkirk didn't know how to respond. He knew, inside, that that was true. He would never have judged a fellow soldier for feeling the need to talk things out. But then why did he hold himself to higher standard?

"Anyway, I'll leave you to think about it." Hogan said after a moment, standing up. "I've got to get things ready for tonight."

"Tonight, Colonel? What's going on tonight?" Newkirk asked. He was glad for a change in conversation topic.

"The Germans are shipping a whole lot of those secret weapons out first thing tomorrow. I intend to destroy the entire plant, now that we have what we need."

"Cor, sounds like a good time. You don't suppose I could–"

"You're right, I don't suppose!" Hogan cut him off. "How could you even ask that, after endangering the previous mission, not to mention the lives of your comrades!"

"Forget I asked." Newkirk mumbled.

"Besides," Hogan continued, frowning, "Wilson has ordered you to take it easy. That means no missions for a while, until you're physically stronger, as well as emotionally."

"Got it, Colonel." Newkirk said, not wishing to further the conversation.

"I've got some things to take care of now. I'm ordering you to get some rest today, that means keeping to bed as much as possible." Hogan told him. "Think about what I said before. I'll see you this evening." And with that, he left.

"Yes sir." Newkirk said, sending a sloppy salute after the Colonel. He sighed and lay back down on the bunk. As if he didn't already have a lot on his mind! Sleep seemed unlikely now.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry it took me so long to post! Thanks again for the reviews! :)


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN –

The reserve men of Barracks 2 were naturally inquisitive about Newkirk's condition after having seen him in such a terrible state the night before. But Hogan was careful not to reveal too much.

Newkirk was a pretty private person, and apart from his closest mates, the Colonel knew he wouldn't want all the men knowing the whole truth.

"How is Newkirk feeling, Colonel?" Carter asked hopefully as Hogan jumped down from the ladder leading to the tunnel.

"He's feeling a lot better, Carter. His colour is better too. I think he finally managed to get a good night's sleep."

"So he admitted to being sleep deprived?" Kinch asked, joining them. Hogan nodded.

"He also felt pretty bad about having shot at you, Kinch." Hogan told him. "Look, I need to talk to you fellas. Where's LeBeau?"

"Coming, mon Colonel." LeBeau said, coming out of one of the adjoining tunnels.

"Okay, gather around here for a second." Hogan instructed. When he had all eyes fixed on him, he took a breath, and began.

"Newkirk is still struggling with the fact that he was forced to kill that boy the other night. If any of you have had to do something like that before, you'll understand the type of damage it can do to a man. The best way to deal with this type of trauma is by talking to somebody about it. The problem is, Newkirk is too clandestine to talk to anyone. I've told him that if he doesn't…that he may be replaced."

"What!" LeBeau cried. "How could you do that, Colonel?"

"The Colonel's right, LeBeau." Kinch interjected. "We can't have him hallucinating on missions or passing out. It could be dangerous to him, to us, and to the entire operation."

"Exactly." Hogan said, thankful for the Sergeant's support. "At the same time, he's an invaluable member of this outfit, and a friend to all of us. I'd hate to see him gone just as much as any of you. That's why I'm going to ask for your help with this. He isn't likely to talk with the Chaplin, but you guys are his best friends."

"You really think he'll open up to us, Colonel?" Carter asked.

"If not…coerce him." Hogan replied.

"Coerce him? You mean force it out of him?" LeBeau asked.

"More like, 'encourage' him to talk about it."

"Is that wise, Colonel?" Kinch asked. "I mean, people should deal with this sort of thing at their own pace. You can't rush a man into recovering from something like that."

"You're absolutely right Kinch." Hogan replied. "And in a perfect world, we would be able to take things slowly. However, I don't want to get a replacement for Newkirk unless I am absolutely sure he can't work any more. Having said that, we need someone with his qualifications back to work for us as soon as possible."

The men nodded. They understood the Colonel's predicament. But they were all wondering the same thing. They weren't psychologists. How would they know what to say to their friend?

Hogan could sense their anxiety.

"Look, I guess what I am trying to say is…just be there for him. You don't even have to say anything. Just listen. And I know I don't have to tell you guys to do this. You'd have done it anyway, I'm sure. Just…be a friend to him."

"We understand, sir." Kinch said.

"Thanks." Hogan said. "Let's get going. We need to be all ready to go by role call this evening. We need German credentials, uniforms, etcetera."

"Oui, Colonel." LeBeau said. He and Kinch disappeared down the tunnel.

"Carter, we need those hand grenades. How many do we have again?" Hogan asked when they were alone.

"You know Colonel," Carter said, apparently unaware of the Colonel's question. "I'm not so sure that Newkirk will want to talk to me."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I always got the impression that he didn't like me very much." Carter admitted. "It was better before the mission. But after what happened last week, he has barely spoken to me."

"He's been upset, Carter. He hasn't been overly friendly towards any of us."

"I know. But sir, I still don't think I ought to talk to him about it. You've all known him a lot longer than I have."

"I see. Well, we'll just have to wait and see what he does. I know that if he chooses to confide in you, you'll help him, though."

"Of course I will, sir. I just don't think he's going to."

"Colonel." Kinch's voice interrupted from the other end of the tunnel. "What ranks do want for us tonight?"

"I dunno Kinch. Surprise me." Hogan answered.

"Got it." He went back to work.

Hogan looked back to Carter.

"About Newkirk…whatever happens, happens. Let's go review the hand grenade arsenal."

* * *

><p>Newkirk wasn't even aware that he had fallen asleep. He had been too busy feeling overwhelmed with guilt. After all, he had killed a kid, almost killed Kinch, and lied to his friends, which included his CO, all within the course of a week.<p>

Thinking back on all of it must have worn him out, because he was asleep less than ten minutes after Hogan had left him. And without warning, he was back in the woods.

He was running, fumbling and panting heavily through the darkness. He could sense that his pursuer was gaining on him. Then, he spotted the tree stump that led into the emergency tunnel! He felt a glimmer of hope, as he sprinted over to it. He tried to pull up the door, but it wouldn't budge! Upon closer inspection, Newkirk saw that someone had nailed it shut. Suddenly, he felt some breathing onto the back of his neck. He turned slowly, and the dark figure attacked him.

Newkirk snapped out of his dream, sitting up abruptly. The whole thing had been brutally realistic. He ran a hand through his hair, and glanced around. He was in Colonel Hogan's Barracks, which meant that nobody had seen him panicking.

The clock on the wall showed that it was close to supper time. Newkirk would need to finally change out of his black outfit, and into his blue uniform if he was going to join his mates in the mess hall, which after spending the entire day alone, sounded good to him.

Hogan came in just as Newkirk was washing the black paint off his face.

"Going somewhere?" Hogan asked.

"If it's all the same to you, sir, I think I'd like to take in dinner with my mates this evening."

"Huh." Hogan replied, folding his arms across his chest. "You're supposed to be resting today. Did you get any sleep?"

"Yes sir, I only woke up a few minutes ago in fact. I've been stuck in here all day, and I haven't even spoken to anybody since yesterday. Don't you think they'd like to see me?" He asked.

"I'm sure they would." Hogan answered. It occurred to him that maybe Newkirk would talk about what had happened. "Alright, I guess that would be okay."

"Thanks Colonel." Newkirk smiled, wearily. Hogan thought he still looked horrible, if slightly more rested. He was still pale, and terribly thin. Just weak over all.

"I'll go over with you." Hogan said, grabbing his coat and cap from the desk.

* * *

><p>Everyone else was already seated in the mess hall by the time Newkirk and Hogan arrived. They took their places with Carter, LeBeau, Kinch and Olsen.<p>

"Boy, tonight is going to be great!" Carter exclaimed. The others hushed him, aware that the German guards might overhear.

"Sorry, I'm just so excited! At my old Stalag, we were never allowed to do any sabotage!" The American sergeant said, in a lower voice. The others smirked. Carter's enthusiasm was catchy. In the past couple days, the team had done more to hinder the German war effort that they'd done since being captured. It felt good to be back in the game.

"Well, Carter, we never would've done any of it if it hadn't been for you." Hogan complimented, clapping the young Sergeant on the shoulder.

"Gee, Colonel." Carter looked down, blushing.

Newkirk paused, and considered what the Colonel had said, and realised something that he hadn't before.

If they hadn't gone on that stupid sabotage mission, he never would've been forced to take that shot.

If those stupid bombs hadn't gone off, the poor kid probably wouldn't have been drawn outside in the middle of the night in the first place.

If they hadn't had to go sabotage that arms laboratory, he never would've shot at Kinch, or passed out, and alerted the others to his...'problem'.

And if Carter hadn't come along, NONE of it would've happened.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry that that took so long. Next one will be up quicker, I swear.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE –

Newkirk watched the others busy themselves with details of the mission until they were practically out of the tunnel.

Carter turned half way up the ladder and smiled at Newkirk.

"Have a nice evening." He said. To Newkirk, to comment seemed unnatural for the sergeant. Forced; like he didn't know what to say to him.

He quickly made his way out through the exit. Newkirk glared at him. It was obvious that Carter was just trying to be nice, but did he have to rub it in Newkirk's face that he wasn't going on the mission?

Newkirk took a long drag of his cigarette.

"Don't wait up." Hogan said, grabbing a rung of the ladder. "I mean that. You've got quite a bit of sleep to catch up on."

Newkirk didn't bother to mention that he wasn't tired. He just nodded and muttered "Good luck, sir." Then Hogan disappeared above ground.

Newkirk scowled. For a moment, he considered following them out there, keeping a distance, so as not to be caught, but watching them blow the factory. Then he realised that the factory was so far away (and the others were taking a car) that he would never beat them back to camp. And he would probably be court marshalled for a thing like that.

So instead he went back up to the Barracks, and sat on his bunk. The other men of Barracks 2 were playing cards or writing letters, but Newkirk felt much too edgy for that mundane of an activity.

He was worried for his friends. He didn't like them doing such a dangerous mission without him. Then again, he was relieved. If some kid came along in the forest, it would be one of them who would have to kill him, not Newkirk.

That was cold comfort. He would never wish for any of his friends to have to do such a thing. Come to think of it, he wouldn't wish it on anyone.

All of a sudden, he felt a lump form in his throat. He cleared it and hastily wiped a couple tears from his eyes. Nobody was watching, which was a relief. He didn't understand why now, all of a sudden, he was getting emotional about everything.

Wanting to save face, rather than crying about it, he decided to deal with the pain in a different way that evening. He jumped down from his bed and went into his footlocker.

Unbeknownst to his friends, he had a couple flasks of mixed alcohol hidden in there. He had collected it over the few occasions that Colonel Hogan had treated them to some booze after a particularly difficult mission.

He jumped back up to his bunk and took a swig. It burned his throat going down and tasted awful, but after a few more sips, he began to feel better. He knew solving his problems with alcohol was a pretty stupid thing to do, but he wasn't in the mood to try anything else.

Newkirk told himself that he wouldn't drink both, but once he finished the first flask, he started in on the second without much thought.

As he continued to drink, his inebriated thoughts returned to a realisation that he had had earlier.

Why did they have to move from Traveller's Aid to sabotage? He wasn't a coward, but the idea of being in constant danger was nerve-wracking. Why did he have to shoot that kid? Well, to save Colonel Hogan, obviously. But Newkirk still couldn't shake the image of his hands covered in blood from holding the ID book. It was the perfect image for how he felt. Figuratively, an innocent boy's blood was on his hands, and he could never wash it off…

And if Carter hadn't joined the team, none of this would've happened in the first place! Newkirk understood that that wasn't really a legitimate reason to be upset with Carter, but he was losing his ability to rationalise with every sip of his concoction…

Newkirk jumped slightly at the sound of the empty flask hitting the wooden floor below. It had slipped out of his hand without him noticing. He got down from the bed, and struggled to steady himself. He felt a surge of nausea, and held his stomach.

Olsen walked over.

"Hey, Newkirk, you alright?" He asked, bending down and picking up the flask for his friend.

" 'm fine." Newkirk mumbled, taking the flask from him.

"You sure?"

"Yes! I am fine, I keep saying it and saying it and nobody is believing me!" Newkirk said, angrily. "And I keep saying it but even I don't believe it!" He shut up at that point. He wasn't supposed to have said that.

Olsen gave him a funny look.

"Are you drunk?" He asked after a moment.

"No." Newkirk retorted. "Jus' a little bit tipsy I guess…"

"Well what are you drinking for?" Olsen exclaimed, attracting the attention of a few of the other men in the Barracks. "You know Colonel Hogan doesn't let us just drink whenever we feel like it! What if Klink comes in? Or Hochstetter, or any of that crowd!"

"Y'know, Olsen." Newkirk mumbled. "It's just the - the only way sometimes."

"And what if they interrogate you? You're liable to say something if you've been drinking!" Olsen continued.

"S'okay, mate! It's the middle of the night! They're all drunk themselves someplace!" He laughed.

Olsen frowned. This was not like Newkirk. To drink, yes, but not to get totally smashed.

"I just can't forget." Newkirk said quietly, his demeanour changing from careless to burdened suddenly. "I can't close my eyes without seeing it, over and over again."

"Seeing what?" Olsen asked.

"This whole bloody war." Newkirk continued without answering, "I hate it. I just wanna go home…" Newkirk turned to Olsen with a look of desperation. "I didn't mean to do it, you know. I wonder if he knows. I guess he couldn't know, could he. He's dead."

"Know what?" Olsen asked, extremely confused at this point.

"That I didn't mean to kill him! I didn't want to do it. I had to!" Newkirk replied, anger returning to his voice once more.

Olsen started to realise what was going on. Hogan rarely told them men about missions unless they played a part in them. It was safer that way, in case the Gestapo questioned them. But Olsen had noticed Newkirk's strange behaviour earlier in the week, and now it occurred to him that something must've happened on that first mission.

"Newkirk," Olsen said, grabbing his friend by the shoulders to keep him from falling over on the spot. "Why didn't Colonel Hogan bring you along on the mission tonight?"

"I'll tell you why, mate! It's all his bloody fault!"

"Who? Colonel Hogan?"

"No." Newkirk spat. Just then, the tunnel entrance opened up from rigged bunk, signifying that the team had returned from the mission. Carter was the first one to climb up. LeBeau followed.

"Him!" Newkirk said, accusingly, pointing a the Sergeant.

"Carter?" Olsen said. He couldn't have been more confused at this point. Before he knew what was happening, Newkirk had ambled over to Carter, ready to pick a fight.

"Newkirk, what's – "

Newkirk cut him off before he could ask what was going on.

"This whole ruddy thing is your fault!" He began. "If you didn't have to get captured again, we wouldn't be in this mess! How daft do you have to be to get captured when you have German ID and civvies on, hey?" He balled his hands into fists, as if about to throw a punch.

"Newkirk!" Olsen said, grabbing Newkirk by the arm and pulling him back slightly. Newkirk yanked his arm free and got right up in Carter's face.

"You know it's your fault that I murdered that kid too! It's more your fault actually! If you didn't come along we wouldn't have even went on that bloody mission!" Newkirk continued.

Carter looked upset by these words. Maybe Newkirk was right… no. It hadn't been anyone's 'fault'.

"It wasn't my fault. And it wasn't yours either!" He insisted, sounding more confident than he felt.

"Don't give me that crap!" Newkirk shouted. "Things were perfect before you showed up! You ruined everything!" With that, he gave Carter a strong shove, sending him backwards and onto the floor.

Olsen jumped forward and pinned Newkirk's arms behind his back. The Englander struggled to get free but lacked coordination seeing as he was intoxicated.

"LeBeau, he's hysterical. Where's the Colonel?" Olsen asked.

"In the tunnel. I'll get him!" The Frenchman said.

"Leggo!" Newkirk murmured.

Carter stood up, dazed more than anything.

"Newkirk, I didn't mean to change things! Honest! I'm sorry about what happened in the woods, but -"

"Save it!" The Corporal snapped. "You have no idea what you've put me through! I had to do it! I had to save Colonel Hogan! But I never would've had to save him if your stupid bombs hadn't gone off!" He lunged forward once more, but Olsen managed to hold him. At that moment, LeBeau brought the Colonel up through the tunnel.

"What's going on up here!" He demanded.

"Newkirk had a bit too much to drink and he's having at Sgt. Carter, sir!" Olsen reported, grunting as he held Newkirk down.

"Sergeant, put him in my quarters to cool off." Hogan ordered. Olsen wrestled the Corporal into the next room. Hogan glanced at Carter, who looked upset, and pale.

"Carter, are you alright? What happened?" Hogan asked.

"I'm fine sir. He just said some things that made me …"

"Carter, he's drunk. You can't take what he said literally."

"But it made sense!" Carter told him.

Hogan frowned. What was he supposed to say? He didn't know what Newkirk had told him, and he needed to go see to his Corporal now. So instead, he just clapped Carter on the shoulder supportively, and headed to the other room.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN –

"Lay off, Olsen!" Newkirk slurred, pulling away once the American finally managed to get him into Colonel Hogan's quarters.

"You need to relax, Newkirk." Olsen told him, breathing heavily from the effort of moving him. "And what's the big idea, making Carter feel bad?"

"I already told you!" Newkirk exclaimed. "He ruined everything! Don't try and tell me otherwise mate, I know it's his fault."

"It's not his fault! Whatever it is…" Olsen replied. Hogan then came through the door, and excused him, which Olsen was thankful for. He still had no idea what was going on.

"Newkirk, what were you thinking?" Hogan asked, hands on his hips. "You know how dangerous it is to get drunk here! What if someone came in to question us!"

"Colonel it's the middle of the night! 's fine!" Newkirk told him.

"It's not fine." Hogan argued. "How could you say those things to Carter?"

"What things?" Newkirk asked innocently. He remembered, but was enjoying being difficult.

"Come off it! You just accused him of being responsible for –" Hogan stopped. Newkirk was swaying on the spot, holding onto the back of a chair so as not to fall over. He was probably too drunk to even understand that what he'd just done was so terrible.

"I'm going to give you one more chance, Peter." Hogan said calmly. "If you don't talk to someone tomorrow, I'm removing you from the team and replacing you with someone else, pending my decision regarding what to do with you."

Newkirk was quiet. He was still drunk, but he knew that the Colonel was quite serious.

"Do you want to stay on the team, Newkirk?" Hogan asked after a second.

Newkirk surprised himself by not answering immediately.

"I want to be a part of the old team again." Newkirk answered a moment later. "This sabotage business is a bit heavy for my liking, sir. I'm not a coward, mind you. But how come we can't just go back to helping prisoners escape?"

"We're to use every means to harass and injure the enemy. That's our mission." Hogan replied, quoting their orders word for word. "That includes sabotage if we have the capabilities. We do now, with Carter here."

Newkirk flinched at the mention of Carter. Hogan frowned.

"None of this is his fault." Hogan said firmly. "It was wrong of you to say otherwise to him. He's…sensitive…and I think you've really upset him."

"I'm sorry." Newkirk mumbled.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." Hogan told him.

"Well, I owe you an apology for lying to you. And my other mates." Newkirk said, contritely. "Not to mention, I've been acting like a right f-"

"We all understand you've been through a lot this last week." Hogan cut him off. "I'm sure they won't hold it against you."

Newkirk nodded. He was relieved to hear that.

"I do want you to talk with Carter, though. I believe he's taken what you've said to heart, and you need to tell him that you were wrong."

Newkirk started to protest, but Hogan stopped him.

"You can do that when you're more lucid. The Newkirk I know wouldn't have said those things in the first place if he weren't drunk, and I'm sure you will make things right once you're sober again."

"Right, sir. ' course." Newkirk replied. He was starting to feel a bit guilty about what he had said. Though he couldn't recall what exact words he had said to Carter, he had an idea.

"You've made your feelings toward him quite clear. He may seem thick at times, but he got the message loud and clear. Earlier today he told me he didn't think you liked him."

Newkirk felt his cheeks flush with shame. Had he really been that obvious?

"Cor, I didn't mean what I said! I was just trying to find someone to blame. Someone… other than me."

"That's normal." Hogan told him, leaning back against his desk. "You still feel guilty about what you had to do in order to save my life. That's why you've been unable to sleep or eat. Things will only go back to normal when you realise that you can't blame yourself."

"I don't think I'll ever stop feeling responsible for what happened, sir."

"It seems that way right now, but don't forget. I was in your place once. I didn't think I'd forgive myself, either."

"You didn't kill a kid." Newkirk said, tersely.

"No, I didn't." Hogan said, admittedly. "But I'm pretty sure the same principal applies here. And it's like I've said before. You won't get over it unless you're willing to talk to someone. It really does help, Newkirk."

When the RAF Corporal didn't say anything, Hogan decided it was time to lay it on the line.

"You're an invaluable member of my team. I don't want to lose you. Say you'll talk to Wilson, Newkirk. That's the only way I can keep you on board."

"I don't want to talk to Wilson." Newkirk told him. Hogan's face fell. He was about to reply when Newkirk stopped him.

"But I'll talk to you."

Hogan smiled. It felt good to know that his subordinate…his friend… felt highly enough of him to confide in him alone.

"Very well." Hogan nodded. "I think that's the right decision, Newkirk. We can't afford to lose you. We don't _want_to lose you."

"Course not, sir. After all, where in this camp would you find a man equal in 'dexterity'." Newkirk said with a slight grin.

"Exactly." Hogan replied. He felt a huge sense of relief knowing that Newkirk was finally willing to defeat this impasse.

"I suppose I should go talk to Carter, eh sir?" Newkirk asked.

"If you think you've sobered up enough."

"That was one of the most sobering conversations I've ever had, sir." Newkirk replied, laughing half-heartedly at the ironic turn of phrase.

"Quite." Hogan agreed. "Alright then. What are you going to say?"

"No idea." Newkirk said. "I'll think of something." Then he headed back into the other room, where the men pretended that they hadn't been straining to hear the conversation, by quickly trying to act casual. Newkirk ignored them and walked over to Carter's bunk, where the American was lying facing the wall.

Newkirk pulled off his cap, a sign of respect, out of habit. After all, he was asking the Sergeant's forgiveness.

"Carter," He said meekly, "You asleep?"

Carter rolled over and looked up at Newkirk. He was holding a leather backed book.

"No, I was reading."

"The Bible?" Newkirk observed, glancing at the cover.

"It's comforting. You know. When you're feeling down." Carter said awkwardly. He sat up, and put the book aside.

"Right. Maybe you could lend it to me sometime." Newkirk said. "I haven't got one. I could probably use it one of these days."

Carter nodded slightly. They both became aware that everyone in the room was listening to them. That was the trouble with POW camps. No privacy. Even the men who were making something of an effort to be discrete were not doing a very good job.

"Newkirk, I'm going to check on Kinch down in the tunnel. My quarters are at your disposal, if you want." Hogan offered, walking over. Newkirk nodded.

"Hey, Carter. Could I talk to you for a second? In private?" Newkirk asked, without making eye contact with the sergeant.

"Okay." Carter replied. The two men retreated into Hogan's room, closing the door behind them, to the dismay of all the eavesdroppers in the next room.

Carter stood a fair distance from Newkirk, who paced the floor a little, his hands in his pockets.

"I suppose I should start, shouldn't I." Newkirk stated, finally finding a spot to stand and facing the American.

"Okay." Carter replied. "Sure."

"I've been a bloody pain this last week, since … And you've had to bear the brunt of that, and I'm sorry. And even before that, I wasn't fair to you. I made presumptions, and I was wrong in those presumptions."

"Oh." Carter said. He seemed a bit astounded, unsure of what to say.

"That's not all." Newkirk continued. "What I said to you a few minutes ago, when you first got back. I didn't mean any of it. I'm sorry I said it. I was drunk, and even though I'm still a little bit tipsy, I can think more clearly now. I was trying to put the blame on someone else. You were new, and the easiest target. So I apologize for that. I really do."

Carter was quiet for a minute, as he absorbed what he had just heard.

"Some of what you said made sense." Carter then said quietly.

Newkirk's face fell. He had actually convinced Carter to take some of the blame.

"No, no, don't listen to me!" He exclaimed. "I'm a twit even when I'm sober!"

Carter smiled a little.

"There you go, you know I'm right!" Newkirk said, grinning. "Listen, this is war. And without people doing the type of thing you're doing, the Germans would win. Your job is dangerous, but necessary. People are going to get hurt, inevitably, because freedom doesn't come free."

"You should listen to yourself, Newkirk." Carter said. "A lot of what you're saying applies to you, and your situation, as well."

Newkirk paused. Maybe Carter was right...

"So you don't blame yourself anymore, do you?" Newkirk asked hopefully.

Carter sighed.

"No." He said. "I hope that soon you won't blame yourself either."

"I really am sorry, mate."

"That's okay." Carter smiled warmly. "Everybody has bad days! But tomorrow's a new day, and we can start over. Let's start as friends this time around!"

"You got it, Carter." Newkirk said, and the two of them shook hands. Newkirk thought to himself that maybe he would be able to tolerate having Carter around from now on. Moreover…he was beginning to feel like they were already becoming close friends.

* * *

><p>Though no one had heard the conversation, all the men in Barracks 2 knew that Newkirk and Carter had made up, based on the atmosphere around them when they came out of the Colonel's quarters.<p>

Newkirk was exhausted, and the alcohol was having an adverse affect on him by this point. He jumped up onto his bunk, once again about to fall asleep with his full uniform on, when he felt someone tap his shoulder.

He opened his eyes. Carter was staring back at him.

"Here." He said, and he handed Newkirk his bible.

"What's this?" Newkirk asked, tiredly, rubbing his eyes.

"You asked to borrow it. I'm feeling a lot better now, and I thought maybe it would be able to help you out. Good night." Carter said, and disappeared into his bunk below.

Newkirk chuckled and thumbed through some pages. He was tired, but he figured that he could use any help he could get. Carter had marked some pages, and circled some passages.

Newkirk sat up and started to read one of marked pages.

Maybe he wouldn't go to sleep just yet.

* * *

><p>AN: Whooo long chapter haha. Thanks for the reviews, again, you guys are great : )


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN –

Newkirk woke up with a start the next morning. He had thought that maybe he would've had a dreamless sleep that night, after agreeing to talk to Colonel Hogan. After all, he had felt very relieved after finally agreeing to get help. But apparently that wasn't enough to get rid of the nightmares.

On top of that, his head was pounding. Luckily, Newkirk never got bad hangovers, and knew the mild symptoms would pass shortly.

Newkirk poked at his food during breakfast. He told himself to eat at least a few spoonfuls of porridge. He wasn't doing himself any favours by not eating, no matter how sick it made him feel.

"Newkirk, do you want to play soccer with us later?" Carter asked. He was smiling at his new friend from across the table, speaking with his usual fervour.

"Okay." Newkirk agreed. He was tired, but also sick of sitting around.

"Let's talk to Sgt. Wilson first." Hogan said. "We need to make sure you're strong enough to be running around."

Newkirk motioned to his bowl.

"I ate."

"I saw."

"I'm feeling much better."

"Yeah, well, we're still going to talk with Wilson first." Hogan said, ending the conversation by focussing once more on his goopy breakfast.

So talk to Wilson they did.

"You're looking a bit better today." Wilson told Newkirk, after having checked him over. The three men were back in Hogan's office. "How do you feel?"

"Better." He replied.

"How did you sleep last night. Alright?" Wilson inquired.

Newkirk half shrugged.

"What does that mean?" Wilson prodded.

"I slept…but it wasn't an _easy_ sleep, if you know what I mean." Newkirk said.

"Why don't you tell us about it?" Wilson suggested.

Newkirk glanced at the floor.

This whole thing was utterly mortifying. He felt so uncomfortable talking about his nightmares, as if he were a frightened little kid again. This was a prison camp, not a nursery.

Everything just felt too awkward.

"There's nothing to tell." Newkirk responded, fidgeting.

Hogan frowned.

"If that's all Wilson…" He began.

"Yes sir. Everything looks alright. Take it easy though, Newkirk." Wilson stood and started for the door.

"Oh, Sarge, can I play football later on with my mates?" Newkirk called out. "I won't over do it, I promise."

"I don't know…" Wilson started. Then he decided that it would be good for Newkirk to get some fresh air, and spend time with his friends. After all, as long as it wasn't 'American football', there wouldn't be any tackling. He smiled at the Englander.

"I guess that would be okay. But I'm going to watch from the sidelines, and if things get too rough, I'm pulling you out of the game, got it?"

"Got it." Newkirk said, returning the smile gratefully.

"Thanks, Wilson." Hogan said.

When Wilson was gone, Hogan faced Newkirk once more. The RAF pilot was standing, putting on his jacket.

"Don't go just yet, Newkirk." The Colonel said.

"But sir, what about the football game? Wilson said I could play!"

"Carter said they were going to play in fifteen minutes' time." Hogan said, looking briefly at his watch. "That gives us just enough time to have a bit of a chat."

Newkirk's face fell. He was rather hoping he could put it off for a while. But he had promised the Colonel he would talk to him today. He sat back down.

"Okay." Newkirk resigned.

"Let's start with your sleeping trouble." Hogan suggested. "You've been having nightmares, haven't you?"

"Yeah. They're really vivid, like it's real life."

"What are they about?"

"They're different every time." Newkirk explained. "But they all have a recurring theme."

"The Hitler youth?" Hogan guessed.

"You got it." Newkirk answered, sombrely. "I kill him over and over again. Whenever I close my eyes, I see his face. For a few nights there, I did whatever I could to keep myself from falling asleep. But I always fell asleep, and always had those bloody dreams."

"That sounds tough." Hogan said sympathetically. "I don't blame you for not wanting to sleep."

"Yeah. And then I wake up all upset and annoyed, and I don't want to talk to anybody or see anybody, but this is a ruddy prison camp! There's no place where a guy can just go to be alone!"

"No, you're right there. Well, I guess there's always the cooler! Lord knows you can get yourself sent there whenever you feel like it!" Hogan quipped.

Newkirk laughed. "I don't think I wanna be alone that badly."

The two sat in silence for a moment, neither man sure of what to say next.

"Anyway, I don't really see how I can make them, the dreams, go away." Newkirk finally said. "Will that do for today, sir? The game's going to start soon." He got up off the bed.

"Sure, Newkirk. Do you feel better for talking about it?" Hogan asked.

"Maybe. A little." Newkirk said, nodding slightly. He headed toward the door.

"Wait, don't go yet." Hogan told.

Newkirk stopped, and looked back impatiently. He didn't want to talk anymore, he wanted to play football with his friends.

"Don't look at me like that," Hogan said with a smirk. "I was just going to ask you to wait while I put my boots on. I'm playing goaltender, and I can't play in dress shoes!"

Newkirk smiled. He certainly didn't mind waiting for that reason. Especially if the Colonel was going to be on his team. Hogan rarely had time to play with the men, but he was a great netminder. However Newkirk would never let the Colonel know that!

"Which team did you plan on 'gracing' with your presence this afternoon, Colonel?" Newkirk teased.

"Well for that snide remark, Corporal, I think I'll pick whatever team you're playing against!" Colonel Hogan answered in mock indignation as he finished tying up his boots.

"Fine by me, sir." Newkirk grinned. "I've got someone better!"

"Everyone knows I'm the best goaltender in camp, Newkirk!" Hogan said, feigning arrogance. "Just who did you have in mind?"

"Sergeant Schultz, of course! He doesn't have to do anything but stand there!" Newkirk replied.

"I protest!" Hogan told him. "There must be something in the rules about having goalies who are bigger than the nets themselves!"

Newkirk laughed.

"We're going to be late, Colonel!" He said. They started to make their way to the court yard.

Hogan smiled to himself. Newkirk seemed less laden than he had before their conversation. There was something in his eyes that showed relief. And although he hadn't really gone into much detail about these nightmares, Hogan knew that he and Wilson had been right all along. Talking about it was really going to help Newkirk to move on.

"Sir! They're picking sides!" Newkirk called a few metres away from the make-shift soccer field, urging his CO to hurry up. Hogan picked up his pace and joined his men just as Olsen and Kinch, the team captains, began to sift their way through the players.

Just before the game started, Hogan caught sight of Wilson, who was watching from the sidelines as promised. The Colonel threw him a nod and a confident smile, letting him know that he'd spoken to Cpl. Newkirk.

Wilson smiled back. It was fine with him if Newkirk only felt comfortable talking with Hogan, as long as Hogan continued to refer to him for any problems that arose, and took his advice on how to handle Newkirk's case.

Wilson saw no reason to pull Newkirk from the game that then took place. Everyone knew that Newkirk was in no condition to play rough, and gave him plenty of room.

Hogan suspected that the others may have even been going easy on him, letting him get the ball and so on, just to improve his morale a little.

If Newkirk had known, he would, of course, be bothered by this. But as it was, he was feeling pretty good about his game, and about himself, and his mind seemed far away from the woods where he had shot that boy.

And playing had obviously helped him to work up an appetite. At lunch time, he ate more than half of his food, while all the while joking with his friends about how they never would've won the game without him.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry it took so long to update. Please R/R!


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN –

Early the next morning, Colonel Hogan was abruptly awoken by his door being swung open noisily.

"Newkirk?" Hogan said, squinting to make out the image of his Corporal standing in the doorway.

"I thought talking to you was supposed to help!" Newkirk said accusingly.

Hogan sat up, frowning.

"You had another nightmare?" Hogan deduced.

"What gave you that idea!" Newkirk snapped.

"Take it easy." Hogan ordered. "Talking to me once isn't going to take away your problem, Newkirk. I thought you understood that!"

Newkirk gritted his teeth in frustration. He was so sick of this! After having such a good day the day before, he was hoping to have a peaceful night. But he was disappointed to have been greeted by another characteristically terrifying nightmare.

"Are you alright?" Hogan asked after a moment of Newkirk standing there, not saying anything, just rubbing his temples. He was so tired.

" 'm fine." Came the mumbled response.

Obviously, whenever Newkirk was asked if he was alright, the response was going to be 'yes'. So Hogan had to get directly to the point.

"Why don't you tell me about the dream. Start from the beginning."

"Sir, it's 4:30 in the morning.. We can talk later. I'm sorry I woke you –"

"I'm wide awake now, and I doubt you're going to be able to go back to sleep." Hogan told him. "A dream is most easy to remember when you first wake up, right? You might not be able to remember it later on. Come on, sit down."

Newkirk reluctantly took a seat at the Colonel's desk and Hogan jumped down from the upper bunk and took at seat at the bottom. He switched on the bedside light.

"Start at the beginning." Hogan repeated.

"Well, we were all of us standing in a circle, in the woods. The Hitler youth lad had you, with a gun up against your head. He told us not to move, or he'd shoot. But I … I went for my pistol anyway. And he shot you." Newkirk looked at his CO somewhat apprehensively. "That's actually why I came in here in the first place. I wanted to make sure you weren't…you know."

"Dead."

"Yeah."

"But it was just a dream."

"I know that." Newkirk replied. "But when I first wake up, it takes a couple minutes before I remember it. The dreams are so life-like."

Hogan nodded. "What happened after he shot me?"

Newkirk took a breath and continued.

"Then I shot him. But he didn't die. He shot Carter, and Kinch and LeBeau. Then he finally turned to me. I shot him one last time, emptying my clip. He crumbled to the ground. When I walked over, he was dead. He was staring up at me with those eyes…" Newkirk felt his throat tighten, and tears forming in his eyes.

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly so the Colonel wouldn't see him that way.

"Anyways," Newkirk cleared his throat again. "Then I woke up."

"So in the dream, the boy was the bad guy." Hogan summarized. "Has that ever been the case before?"

"Sometimes. Other times he just begs me not to shoot him. But I do. Every time." Newkirk answered. He looked up at Hogan.

"Do you think they've had a funeral service for him yet?"

"I imagine so." Hogan replied.

"Too bad. I'd have liked to have gone to it."

"I don't think that would've been a very good idea." Hogan told him.

"How could it have hurt? I'd have just paid my respects and gotten out."

"Well there's no use arguing about it now, is there. It's been, what, ten days? I'm pretty sure they've already held the service."

"Right." Newkirk sighed. "I just wish there was something I could do for the parents. I wish I could let them know why I did what I did." He said the last part as though he were disgusted with himself.

"I'm afraid that's out of the question. Any explanation would expose our entire operation. And besides. I doubt any parent would really understand."

"You're probably right." Newkirk nodded.

"Listen, I know that you're still struggling with this. But in terms of what happened the other night, with the booze —"

"I know that wasn't the brightest thing to do, sir."

"That's how people become alcoholics, Newkirk."

The RAF pilot looked a bit startled. He'd thought that Hogan was just going to say that it could endanger their operation if people were drinking whenever they felt like it.

"I didn't bring it up yesterday, because we were heading over to play soccer, and had a limited time. But this is very serious. When people use alcohol, or drugs, to deal with their emotions, it can be extremely dangerous."

"I hadn't really considered that, Colonel. I was upset, and I knew what would make me feel better."

"Well from now on, if you're feeling badly about anything, I want you to talk to one of us first. And as a precaution, I think you should stay away from alcohol altogether for the next little while."

"I'm not actually an alcoholic, Colonel, you know that right?" Newkirk told him, defensively.

"Obviously I know that." Hogan assured him. "And I don't think you'll become one. I just think it's a good idea to exclude it from the equation entirely. It can only help you cover up your problems, and that's exactly what we're trying to avoid. Got it?"

"Got it." Newkirk replied. He wasn't crazy about the idea of not being able to have a beer with his mates for a while, but he knew the Colonel was right. He was almost always right.

And besides, Newkirk had known a few alcoholics back home in England, and he was willing to do anything to avoid ending up like that lot.

"Alright, good. Well, we've got just about an hour before roll call."

"Care to lose to me in a game of cards, sir?" Newkirk asked, grinning devilishly.

"We'll just see about that! I accept your challenge, Corporal, but I wouldn't be so cocky! I'll have you know I beat Carter out of three packs of cigs yesterday!"

"Is that supposed to impress me, sir? Old Klink could beat Carter in cards!" Newkirk meant this in the nicest way possible. He no longer held any hostility toward the American sergeant.

"Wait a minute! Are you comparing me to Klink!" Hogan gasped, as he brought a deck of cards out from his desk drawer.

"Your words, sir, not mine!" Newkirk laughed. He reached for the cards.

"Ah! Not so fast. I'll deal if it's all the same to you!" Hogan told him.

Newkirk shrugged and smiled innocently. What Hogan didn't know, was that in the brief moment that Newkirk's fingers had come in contact with the deck, he had slipped a pair of aces up his sleeve, so they'd be ready for him when he needed them.

And the two men played until Schultz came to get them for roll call, and at some point, Newkirk stopped seeing the boy's life-less eyes whenever he blinked.

* * *

><p>"WELL WE'VE TRIED IT ONCE OR TWICE, AND WE FOUND IT RATHER NICE! ROLL ME OVER LAY ME DOWN AND DO IT AGAIN!" The men sang boisterously.<p>

"Please Colonel Hogan, make them stop!" Schultz begged.

The whole crew was in the back of a transport truck, on their way to repair a road in exchange for extra rations. They were also meeting an underground contact there. He had a message for them.

"OH WELL THIS IS NUMBER ONE AND THE FUN HAS JUST BEGUN!"

"They aren't hurting anybody, Schultz. Just leave them be!" Hogan said, grinning at the usually jovial German next to him.

"It's not that they are hurting anyone, Colonel, but this song is _verboten_!"

"Why?" Hogan asked.

"OH THIS IS NUMBER FIVE, AND HITLER'S RUNNING FOR HIS LIFE! ROLL ME OVER LAY ME DOWN AND DO IT AGAIN!" That was Newkirk. Everybody laughed at his lyrics. The men were taking turns filling in the verses, and singing the chorus all together, at the top of their lungs.

Hogan smiled to himself. It was good to see Newkirk interacting with the other men once again, and acting like his usual, playful self.

"THAT is why!" Schultz said, going slightly red at hearing the blasphemous verse. "The men should not be insulting the Fuhrer!"

"There's nothing in the Geneva convention about that." Hogan informed the guard.

"Please, Colonel Hogan!" Schultz repeated desperately after a few more bars. "I am getting a headache!"

"OH THIS IS NUMBER TEN, WHEN WE'RE THROUGH, WE'LL SING IT AGAIN! ROLL ME OVER LAY ME DOWN AND DO IT AGAIN! ROLL ME OVER IN THE CLOVER, ROLL ME OVER LAY ME DOWN AND DO IT AGAIN!" They sang/shouted.

"One more time!" Somebody yelled.

"Okay, Fellas, let's take a break from the singing, alright? Sergeant kill-joy over here is getting tired of it." Hogan ordered, gesturing to Schultz. The men grumbled, but quit singing. They arrived at the site shortly after that.

As everyone got to work filling in the various pot-holes in the cement, Hogan kept a lookout for their contact, all the while humming "Roll Me Over in the Clover" to himself.

About twenty minutes after their arrival, a man driving a cart stopped next to their set up. Schultz was quick to tell the man to clear off, but Hogan came to his rescue.

"Schultz, it's time for the men to have their lunch." He said.

"But we didn't bring anything to eat." The German replied.

"Well perhaps this gentleman would be willing to sell us some of his produce." Hogan suggested, motioning toward the cart load of vegetables.

"Jah!" Schultz agreed, his face lighting up. "Send the bill to Colonel Klink!" He said to the man, before calling all the prisoners over to get some food.

Hogan and the underground agent took that moment to excuse themselves.

"Papa Bear?"

"It's Jabberwocky, isn't it? What's the message?"

"A very important man is passing through town next week. He will be staying at the Hauserhof for one night, in room 17. He's attending a meeting in Hammelburg the next morning, and then returning to Berlin. He is carrying with him a briefcase containing the locations of all the newly established ball-bearing plants and war supplies factories across Germany."

"If we get those maps, we can essentially wipe out the German civilian component! And without those factories, the military won't have much to work with." Hogan said, his eyes lighting up at the thought of it.

"We don't need to maps themselves, just photographs. Now, I was told that you have someone who's very experienced in safe cracking?"

Hogan frowned and looked over at the group of men around the food cart. Newkirk was talking with Kinch and Carter, laughing. He looked alright, but Hogan noticed that he wasn't eating anything.

"Colonel?"

"We do." Hogan answered after a moment. "I take it that the target has this brief case locked up somewhere. That's why this assignment is ours. You need Cpl. Newkirk."

"They tell me he's the best at what he does." Jabberwocky said. "Is there something wrong?"

"Newkirk was pretty sick not too long ago, and I'm not sure he's entirely recovered. Our camp medic said that he shouldn't be taking on any missions."

"This is a vitally important assignment. We'd prefer to have an expert, but if there's a chance something might go wrong, I can get one of our people to do it."

"No, that won't be necessary." Hogan answered, looking over at his men once more. He wanted so badly to trust that Newkirk was getting better, and that by this point, he was well enough to complete this task without endangering the mission and his friends.

Either way, he had a week before the mission in which to evaluate Newkirk's capabilities.

"Tell your people that we'll take care of it." Hogan said.

With a nod, the agent returned to his cart.

The prisoners cleared away and Schultz, who had been too busy eating to notice Hogan talking with the agent, thanked the man and reminded him to 'bill Klink'. Then he turned and barked for the prisoners to 'get back to work'.

Hogan ambled over to his friends, and picked up a shovel. He'd discuss the mission with them back at camp.

* * *

><p>AN: The song "Roll Me Over in the Clover" was actually a really popular song in WWII. The Allies often changed the lyrics to mock the Nazis. I heard it on 'Dad's Army' and decided to put it in! haha


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 –

Later that afternoon, as the men filed back into Barracks 2 back at camp, Newkirk and Kinch sat down to play a round of cards. Hogan leaned back against his closed door and watched. He needed to know if Newkirk really was back to his normal self.

"Gin" Newkirk exclaimed, grinning as he lay out his cards.

"Already?" Kinch scowled. "Why do I even bother playing against you, Peter?" Kinch glanced over Newkirk's shoulder and winked at the Colonel. Though he feigned exasperation, Kinch had noticed a big improvement in Newkirk lately, and was glad, even if it meant losing to him.

Newkirk smirked as he jotted down his points on a sheet of paper. All of his friends had noticed his gradual increase in confidence, and the return of his good-natured haughtiness. He himself was feeling much better, much stronger. The fact that he had killed a kid wasn't on his mind 100% of the time anymore.

Once he had decided to open up to all of his closest friends, the weight of the killing had been lifted considerably from his shoulders. It was as if all of those in whom he'd confided had taken a share of the weight upon themselves, lightening Newkirk's load.

"Give me that deck, I'm shuffling this time!" Kinch said, grabbing the cards from off the table before Newkirk could protest. Gin Rummy was game of luck as much as skill. Newkirk had recently regained, along with everything else, his ability to 'enhance' his own luck, as it were.

"Suit yourself, mate. I don't need to cheat in order to win." Newkirk retorted. He leaned back in his chair, smugly.

Hogan watched them play a few more hands. Newkirk won every time. There was a permanent grin on his face.

"I quit." Kinch said eventually. After he left his seat, Hogan stepped in and took it.

Newkirk glanced up from the deck his was shuffling.

"Want to play a round, Colonel?" Newkirk asked.

"Why not." Hogan replied. Newkirk began to deal.

"Newkirk, I need to talk to you about something." Hogan said after a moment.

"What's that, sir?' Newkirk answered, not stopping to look at the officer.

Hogan cleared his throat, and leaned in a little. The other men in the barracks paid no attention to the card game going on at the table, but Hogan still thought it best to keep his voice down, for Newkirk's sake,

"We've been given an assignment…an important one… and if you were to come… it would make things a lot easier for our side."

Newkirk paused for a moment, before dealing the last few cards without any comment.

"Your turn first, sir." He said.

Hogan had momentarily forgotten that he was even playing. He looked down at his hands and hastily traded a 4, picking up a 9. A couple turns went by before Newkirk called "Gin."

Hogan smirked.

"Kinch is right. Why do we bother playing against you? We might as well just hand you our money straight up, and save ourselves the trouble."

Newkirk managed a weak smile, as he wrote down the score.

"Newkirk, I know you're worried. I'm worried too." Hogan said, switching once more to the more serious topic. "I'm obviously not going to force you to go, if you don't feel ready."

"Why does it have to be me?" Newkirk asked.

"There's a very important man staying at the Hauserhof in a few days. He has, locked in a safe in his room, an updated layout of all the German war supplies factories."

"And you need me to break into the safe." Newkirk deduced. He picked up a card.

"Right."

Newkirk sighed.

"What if I freeze up? What if I get us caught? Sir, I can't risk your lives like that!"

"I don't think that there's a danger of that happening. You've shown considerable improvement in the last few days. Did you dream about the incident last night?"

"No."

"When was the last time you dreamt about it?" Hogan picked up Newkirk's discarded card and replaced it with one of his own.

Newkirk thought for a moment.

"I guess it was three nights ago, when I barged into your room at 4 in the morning." Newkirk laughed a little, obviously still embarrassed by having done that.

"There you go. Did you eat lunch today?"

Newkirk shifted in his chair a bit.

"A little." He replied. "Some times I still don't feel like eating. But it's not because I'm thinking about…you know."

"Well, Wilson seems to think that you've regained most of your strength, regardless of that fact. I guess you're getting enough food to get by on." Hogan told him. "And the fact that you're playing, and winning, at cards again tells me that you're back to your sharp self."

"Thanks, Colonel." Newkirk said. "But I'm still worried. What if I start hallucinating again? Like I did with Kinch?"

"That only happened because you had been severely sleep and food deprived. We just determined that that isn't the case anymore, right?"

"I guess." Newkirk replied. He didn't look very confident.

"Look, we have a few days to decide. I don't want you to feel pressured into making a decision either way. If you don't feel ready, we can try and find someone else."

"Someone as good as I am, sir? Good luck!" Newkirk scoffed, as he picked up another card. He then threw his hand down on the table, for the Colonel to see. "Gin. I win."

Hogan just laughed, and dug out his wallet.

* * *

><p>That night, Newkirk went to sleep with the topic of the mission at the forefront of his mind. It played out in his dreams.<p>

"_Newkirk, how could you do this to us?" Carter's voice came drifting through the trees. _

"_We trusted you. Why would you say you were better if you weren't?" That was Kinch. _

_Newkirk spun around, trying to see where his friend's voices were coming from, but the only thing he could see was darkness. _

"_Where are you guys?" Newkirk called out. _

"_We're dead, Newkirk. Don't you remember? You shot me back in the forest." Kinch's voice said. _

"_No, I wouldn't do that! Colonel Hogan said I wasn't going to hallucinate if I went out again!"_

"Colonel Hogan is dead too, so he couldn't have told you those things." That was LeBeau.

"_But you can't be dead!" Newkirk cried. _

"_But we are. And it's your fault. Why did you have to kill that kid, Newkirk? Why did you kill us? It's your fault." The voices began to jumble together, and Newkirk felt short of breath. _

"_Don't kill us, Newkirk! Please! No, don't shoot! Please, Newkirk!" The voices cried out, overlapping each other. Newkirk covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. _

_"GO AWAY!" He screamed. _

When he opened his eyes, he was lying on his bunk. The sun wasn't up yet, and everyone was asleep. He glanced over at Kinch's bed, and was relived to see his chest move up and down gently as he slept. He was still alive. So were the others.

_Of course they are, _Newkirk thought to himself, running a shaky hand through his hair. It was just a dream! _Why had the dreams returned? _

Newkirk reached underneath his pillow, and pulled out the bible Carter had given him a few days earlier. He'd never been particularly religious in civilian life, believing that no God or church would want anything to do with a thief like him. But lately, he found the whole thing to be a source of comfort.

_For I will be merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins__ and their iniquities will I remember no more.  
>-<em>_Hebrews 8:12_

Newkirk thought, in reading this, that even if he could not forgive himself, maybe God would forgive him. But who want to forgive someone who had killed a kid?

He shoved the book back under his pillow. Maybe he'd go have a smoke. When he got down from his bunk, the 'thud' from hitting the floor woke up Carter.

"Is it time for role call already?" Carter asked, sleepily, rolling over to face Newkirk.

"No, not just yet." Newkirk replied softly. Carter sat up.

"Did you have another dream?" He asked.

Newkirk considered denying it, but then figured it wouldn't do much good. He nodded, and sat down on a chair, facing Carter's bed.

"Sorry to hear that." Carter said. "It's been a few nights since your last one, hasn't it?"

"Yeah. I don't know what brought this one on."

"Maybe it's because the Colonel told you about the mission yesterday, and you're worried about it." Carter suggested.

Newkirk considered this.

"You might be right, Andrew." He replied. "I just can't shake the feeling that I'm going to do something wrong and put everyone's life in danger!"

"Look, Newkirk, I struggle with that feeling every day of my life!" Carter said, with a hint of humour in his tone. "I'm always making a mess of things, but if you let fear control you, you'll never do anything great."

"I guess you're right..."

"And besides, what are we here for! If something goes wrong, you've got tons of friends to back you up, and save the day!"

Newkirk felt sort of guilty. He should've put more faith in his friends' abilities and intelligence. They wouldn't let the mission go bad without putting up a good fight. A lot of what the sergeant was saying made sense.

"You know, Carter, you're a pretty smart guy." Newkirk told his friend after a moment of silence.

"I am!" Carter exclaimed. "You're the first person to ever tell me that, Newkirk! Usually people tell me how not-smart I am!" The sergeant was obviously pleased with the compliment.

"I mean it, Andrew. You've help me a lot these last few days. And after I was so hard on you."

"That's what friends are for, Newkirk!" Carter smiled. "Have you gotten a chance to look at bible I gave you?"

"Yeah." Newkirk said. "There's some good stuff in there, but to be perfectly honest, mate, I'm not entirely sure that it applies to me."

"It applies to everyone, Newkirk." Carter objected. "That's the beauty of it."

Newkirk nodded. "I'll keep reading."

"I circled the stuff that made sense to me. Some of it's really confusing, so just start with the stuff that I circled. It always made me feel better."

"Thanks, mate. I will." With that, Newkirk stood. "Role-call is in an hour. Care to join me for a fag before that time?"

"A what?"

"A cigarette."

"Oh." Carter replied, pulling back the covers. "Sure!" The two men ducked outside.

* * *

><p>An hour or so later, barracks 2 was standing in the freezing cold, waiting for the Kommandant to show up.<p>

Hogan hugged himself and bounced on the spot to try and keep warm. He desperately wished Klink would hurry about it and then they could go back inside. As the winter months approached, the mornings were getting colder and Klink was taking longer to get up.

Most of the men were complaining, but the British Corporal next to him was not.

Newkirk looked deep in thought.

"Newkirk, I heard someone moving around in the barracks early this morning." Hogan stated.

"That was me and Carter, sir. We had a smoke and got ready for role-call." Newkirk answered, absent-mindedly.

"What were you two doing up so early?"

"Quiet, here come the Kommandant!" Schultz shouted, as the door to Klink's building opened and a very warmly bundled Colonel came sauntering down the steps.

"Report!" He shouted.

"All present and accounted for!" Schultz announced, saluting.

"Good. Prisoners, I feel I must remind you of our fool-proof security here at camp 13. I am sure that –"

Suddenly, Newkirk turned to Colonel Hogan.

"Sir, I've decided I'm going to do it."

"No talking in the ranks!" Schultz said angrily. "The Kommandant is talking at the moment!"

"Are you sure, Newkirk?" Hogan asked.

"Yes sir. I've given it a lot of thought, and I'm ready."

"Corporal Newkirk, is there something you would like to share with the group?" Klink said, in a sarcastic tone. He wasn't impressed about having to stop his lecture.

"No, sir."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to do this." Hogan continued, ignoring the Kommandant.

"I know, Colonel." Newkirk answered. "That's not the reason."

"Colonel Hogan, what is going on!" Klink demanded, turning red at the blatant disregard of his authority.

"Sorry, Colonel." Hogan said, facing Klink. "What was that?"

"Hogan, I demand that your men come to attention when I address them! Talking in the ranks is absolutely unacceptable! The next man to speak goes straight into the cooler!"

"Yes sir." Hogan replied. "Understood."

Klink, who was now feeling extremely indignant, had lost track of what he'd been lecturing about, and dismissed everyone, annoyed.

Hogan grinned and walking over, clapped Newkirk on the shoulder.

"I think you've made the right decision, Newkirk." He told him.

"I think so too, sir." Newkirk smiled. Carter, who was standing behind them, jumped next to Newkirk.

"Alright, Newkirk! We wouldn't have been able to do it without you, anyway! You're the best safe cracker in the world!"

Schultz, who was still standing nearby, groaned at overhearing this, and walked away with his hands over his ears, hearing nothing.

"Kinch, get in touch with the underground, let them know that we have put a team together for the assignment, and that we're awaiting any further instruction."

"Yes sir." Kinch nodded, and headed back into the hut. The others followed in quick succession, anxious to get out of the bitter cold. They all sat down around the table, while LeBeau tended to the kettle.

"Newkirk, what were you and Carter doing up so early this morning?" Hogan asked, repeating the question that he had been denied an answer to earlier.

"Truthfully sir, I'd had another nightmare." Newkirk answered, as LeBeau poured him a steaming mug of tea.

Hogan frowned.

"That's not good."

"But I'm not worried about it. Carter helped talk me through it, and I realised it was just an effect of the anxiety I was feeling over the upcoming mission. Regardless of the dream, I still think that going on this mission is the best thing to do."

"Alright, if that's how you feel, I agree with you." Hogan said. "Here's to another successful mission." He held out his mug and the others clinked their with his, before taking a sip.

* * *

><p>AN: So, I am almost done! I really apologize for the wait, but my life has been super hectic. I just started college, and I also just started training in the Canadian army reserves, and I have had literally no time to write!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen –

Hogan and Newkirk would be the only ones going on the mission. The fewer people in the field, the smaller the risk of being caught.

Every day, Hogan would go over the plan with Newkirk. The Colonel firmly believed that the more familiar and comfortable they were with the plan, the less room there was for error and improvisation.

The evening before the mission, Hogan pulled Newkirk aside to discuss the mission.

"How are you feeling about tomorrow?" He asked.

"I'm feeling pretty good, Colonel. How are you feeling?"

"Good." Hogan said with a smile. "Should we go over the plan once more?"

Newkirk glanced over to the poker game that was starting up at the table.

"If it's all the same to you, sir, can we talk about it after the game? I'm feeling lucky tonight."

"Lucky, suuuuure." Hogan said, smirking.

"Why sir, I don't know what you are insinuating!" Newkirk replied in mock offence. He adjusted the sleeves of his coat around his wrists, where he typically hid his cards.

Hogan laughed. "Go ahead. We can talk later."

With a grateful nod, Newkirk quickly took his seat at the table, just in time to be dealt in.

Hogan laughed to himself as he watch LeBeau demand that Newkirk take off his jacket and roll up his sleeves, and when the Frenchman saw that no cards were hidden there, demanded to know where he was hiding them.

Newkirk was certainly a skilled con-man. He was emphatic that he didn't have any cards hidden, and yet, interestingly enough, he won the first three hands.

The very fact that Newkirk was able to think about something other than the mission was a good sign, and Hogan retreated to his room.

Later on, not long before lights out, there was a knock at the door to Hogan's quarters.

"Come in." Hogan said, placing the book he'd been reading on his desk.

Newkirk opened the door and walked inside.

"Hey. How'd the game go?" Hogan asked.

Newkirk answered by holding up an assortment of 5 and 10 bills from various countries.

"How do you do it, Newkirk?" Hogan asked.

"I'll never tell, sir." Newkirk said, pocketing the money, rather proud of himself. Hogan shook his head in awe.

"Alright, let's talk about tomorrow." He motioned for Newkirk to come over to the desk, where he had the schematics of the operation.

"Jabberwocky, our contact, will be at the Houserhauf waiting for us, with all the photography equipment. We will wait downstairs, and watch for the Captain to leave. When he does, we'll go up to his room, and get to work. We have to be a quick as possible, considering we have no idea how long this meeting is going to go for."

"Pretty straight forward, Colonel." Newkirk said, nodding.

"Now, our cover story. I'm going out dressed as a Luftwaffe major, and you're going to be my prisoner, so wear your uniform."

"But sir, why don't we both dress as Luftwaffe personnel?"

"If, at any point we get separated, and you get captured, you can always claim you were just trying to escape, and you'll be safe. I'll have my fake papers and hopefully they'll fall for it, but if not, I don't want to take you down with me. But if they find me out, especially with the film on me, I'm as good as dead."

"In that case, sir, why don't you let me take the film, and wear the uniform? That way –"

"I don't think so." Hogan answered firmly.

Newkirk decided there was no point in arguing. An officer's life would be worth more than an enlisted man's, no matter which way you looked at it. But Hogan would never put one of his men in a position where they could be harmed, if he could take the position himself.

"After we get the footage, we put everything back, make it look like we were never there, and we're back at camp in time for evening dinner."

"Sounds like a plan, Colonel." Newkirk said. He'd heard it many times now, and knew it inside and out.

"I'm glad you decided to come. You're doing a great service to our side. I know you must be nervous."

"I guess I'm a bit nervous." Newkirk answered, with a shrug.

"That's okay." Hogan told him. "I'm a bit nervous too. But I'm confident that nothing's going to go wrong."

"I certainly hope you're right." Newkirk said, with a slight frown.

"What are you worried about?" Hogan asked.

"Well, I just think I'm going to freeze up if we have to improvise, if something does go wrong. You know, I froze up whenever I saw Schultz or Klink for the first couple days after the incident."

"Really? You didn't tell me about that." Hogan said, trying not to sound reproachful.

"Well, it was embarrassing. I was pretty jumpy around the krauts. But it only last for a day or so. After talking to Schultz, I just remembered that I was safe here. But out there, it's different, isn't it."

"Well, yes." Hogan said. He didn't really know what he could say to that.

"It's okay, sir." Newkirk said, sensing that the Colonel didn't really know how to respond. "I'm sure you're right. Everything'll be right as rain."

Hogan smiled and nodded. Then Newkirk went to get ready for bed, and Hogan returned to his book.

* * *

><p>Newkirk's behaviour the next morning had been reminiscent of how he'd acted immediately after the incident, but Hogan wasn't worried. He knew the RAF pilot was simply focussing on keeping his head for the assignment that afternoon.<p>

Hogan was not in an overly social mood himself. As he donned his Wehrmacht uniform in a side tunnel about a half-hour before they left, Kinch noticed he seemed preoccupied.

"Nervous, Colonel?" He asked, putting the finishing touches on the Captain insignia on the uniform collar.

"A little, Kinch." He admitted.

"Are you worried about Newkirk?" The American sergeant asked after a second.

"I'm – " Hogan began. _Was_he worried that Newkirk was going to do something that might mess up the assignment or worse, get them killed?

"He's doing a lot better." Kinch said.

"Yes he is. I don't think anything will happen. And if it does, I'll be there to take control of the situation. Either way, I guess we'll just have to wait and see. It's almost time to leave, so we'll know soon enough, won't we."

"Yes sir." Kinch took a step back from his work. "You're all done, Colonel."

"Thanks, Kinch. Let's go see if Newkirk's ready to go." Hogan put on a long, camouflage coat, which Newkirk would also wear over his uniform. They'd ditch the coats once they were far enough from the camp, but before that time, it would keep the guards from spotting the men in the trees. After all, it was only 3 in the afternoon, and despite the cold, the sun was shining.

The two men then joined the others in the main tunnel.

LeBeau and Newkirk were talking quietly when Hogan entered the room. Carter handed the Colonel his sidearm, which Hogan put in his hip holster.

"Ready?" Hogan asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be, sir." Newkirk answered, with a nod.

"Right then. Let's go then." Hogan said. And he motioned for Newkirk to climb up the ladder, the other men calling 'good luck' behind him as he climbed out of the tunnel.

Newkirk crouched down once he had both feet on the forest floor, and stayed that way until the Colonel had emerged fully from the tunnel, and was crouched beside him.

"Keep low until we're deeper in the woods. Go ahead." Hogan said quietly, nudging Newkirk with his elbow.

Newkirk walked quickly, ducked down low, his heart pounding in his chest. He was half expecting one of the camp guards to jump out from behind one of the trees and open fire on them.

After a few minutes, Hogan stood upright, and tapped Newkirk on the back.

"I think we've made a clean get away." The camp was masked by trees, and no longer within visual range. "Let's ditch these coats."

"I hate to do that, sir." Newkirk said, straightening up as he shrugged off the hooded jacket. "It's freezing outside." The extra layer provided a bit more warmth.

"Me too." Hogan smiled, but then took a more serious expression. "How are you doing so far?"

Newkirk glanced around at the trees.

"It doesn't look the same in broad daylight." He observed. That was defiantly a good thing.

"I'll take that as a 'good enough'. Let's move out." He glanced about, getting his bearings, and they began to walk in the correct direction towards the town.

The twenty minute walk was a relatively quiet one. Both men's minds were on the task at hand. When they reached the outskirts of the town, Hogan turned to Newkirk.

"This is it. Now, from here on out, you're my prisoner, so don't take it personally if I act all pompous and nasty toward you."

"I understand fully, sir. You're trying to be a Nazi, after all. You've got to sell it!" Newkirk said with a laugh.

Hogan smirked. "Come on." And then walked towards the Hauserhof.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, so I totally planned on finishing the story in this chapter but, what do you know, it didn't happen. Maybe I'll finish it in chapter 18! Haha… Btw, Happy (Canadian)Thanksgiving!


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